Orbital Debris
by Tsume Yuki
Summary: Story idea's that took off, but broke up in orbit before they could truly impact upon my account. A collection of stuff that I'll probably never finish for the morbidly curious.
1. Seven Hundred and Counting

**Seven Hundred and Counting**

My name is Celina, and I stumbled upon the come-and-go room in 1276. I just so happened to come tumbling out in 1976. And I can't get back.  
She's Ignotus' grand-daughter and her brother was the one to go on an have a child which was the ancestor of the Potter family.

_**Prologue**_

The Unspeakable drummed his fingers across the desk, rubbing wearily at his face with his right hand. Across the table, the little pain in the neck that'd appeared in late June sat, legs carefully folded up beneath her and a slight frown to her face. The girl could be no older than fifteen, but she was rather insistent that her date of birth was back in the thirteenth century. Which would put her at about seven hundred years old. And nothing he could do would make her change her mind. Hell, he knew she was right, but that didn't mean he wanted to believe it. Time-travellers were such a mess, especially the ones from the past, because there was no effective way of shoving them back where they belonged. Oh, the future ones were easy, just freeze them up till the right year and everything was golden. The past was a bit harder to deal with.

"Have you gotten any order from up top?" His partner had graduated four years ago, and was still the newbie amongst them. Even so, he -along with every other free Unspeakable- had been lumped with the time-traveller's case. Put in charge of not just making sure that she was as up to date as they could get her, but actually getting her ready to attend her next year of schooling. It was ludicrous, to even think about carting her off to school. They'd spent a good deal of time draining the girl of information the past, but thanks to the laws surrounding the ancient and noble house-holds, they hadn't been able to go digging around in her head like the last time-jumper. And she'd been fully aware of this, if they coy little smile they'd been given was anything to go by.

"Yeah, we're suppose to ship her back off to Hogwarts tomorrow."

The girl perked up at that, clearly more than happy to be out of the monotone that was the Unspeakable holding cells. Well, they weren't really a prison, more of a living space actually, but they'd kept her put for quite a while. The only time they took her out was to get her acquainted with the new ways of the world. To say the poor girl was boggled would be an understatement, but she'd clearly been trying to push past it and not let it show. She'd have done an admirable job had the lot of them not been trained to watch for certain ticks.

The girl and his partner looked at each other before they both let out a low sigh of relief, muttering at the same time, "thank Merlin."

And he could honestly say he agreed.

_**Chapter 1**_

_When I needed you, couldn't even find  
In another time, in another place  
Would I even wake?_

_-Bo Bruce, Save Me_

Hogwarts had certainly changed. But then again, so had everything. From the shape of the carriages that pulled students up to the castle, to the once tiny village on its outskirts that was now a hustle and bustle of shops. Everything was exceptionally weird, exceptionally out of place. I'd been stumbling through the oh so familiar halls for the past three days, taking in every new portrait, every new crack in the stones or the new window frames. The forest looked different, the trees taller and wider, older. Everything had changed now, time had sped onwards without me as I'd been fumbling about in that stupid room, thinking how amazing it would be to see the future, to have a look around and find out what's changed. I'd not realized my journey was a one way ticket, and I still wasn't too sure if I was happy about that or not. Sure I missed mother and father and Octavian, my little brother. But this was life, there was no way I was going back now, the odd 'Unspeakables' had been very quick to explain that to me. They given me a quick crash course on the basics of the future, on the major changes. Well, they'd made sure I was up to date with human interactions and social expectations, but otherwise, they'd just thrown a good lot of books at me head and left me to it. Annoying, but I'd quickly knuckled down to read everything I'd missed of the last seven hundred years. Some of it was pure rubbish when it came to facts from my own time period; pure elemental magic hadn't been banned, it'd just been frowned upon. I should know, I was there when my father was debating with that law. Hell, if these stupid politicians checked their records, they'd realize they were very much wrong. There were so many spells that'd been invented too, so much I had to catch up on. And the plants that I'd only been using in potions four months ago, some of them were now extinct, while some new breeds had popped up elsewhere. Apparently, there was only one tame herd of Thestrals in England now, another huge blow. The creatures of death had been one of my grand-father's favourites, which honestly wasn't all that surprising considering who he was. A trait that'd been passed on both to my father, myself and my little brother, as far as I could tell that was. He'd only been four years old when I'd left.

Shaking the thoughts from my head, I ducked into the crowds of passing teens, adjusting the odd material known as a 'tie' that was now part of the uniform. Before we'd just wear official Hogwarts robes, but now they had clothing to go under it. Granted that it was made of exceedingly comfortable material and it was rather pleasant to wear trousers, but it just wasn't the same. It was another reminder of just how out of my time I was now. None of the other students seemed to notice my sudden appearance, still happily chatting amongst themselves over what they'd been up to whilst not at school, another thing I found odd. There was no 'summer holidays' back in the 1200's. Schooling lasted seven years, and you came out able to survive the bloodshed that was going on out there. It was as simple as that. But apparently these were relatively peaceful times. Or, they had been, up until recently. The Unspeakables had mentioned something about a Dark Lord running a mock, but I hadn't really been paying attention, much more focused upon the goblins and their rebellions. Which in all honesty was quite surprising, considering wizard-kind had been on very good standing with the race back in the thirteenth century. Back then, they'd been trusted to look after wizard gold in small underground deposits which I'd learnt, had fully evolved into a bank by now. I'd been both amused and flabbergasted to learnt that not only did I still have my gold deposit, but that it'd been collecting interest since I'd never officially closed it. Of course, the little demons had demanded a ten percent interest before I could officially open it up again. Still, it was more money than I'd ever held in my grubby little paws before.

The great hall was one of the only things that had not changed. Sure there was a new set of staff, and not one familiar face on the students, but it still felt like I was returning home. Besides, a good handful of the students bared a passing resemblance to some of the other pure-blood families back in my own time. I'd been quite upset to learn there'd not been a Peverell to pass through these halls for centuries, but the Unspeakables had promised to look into my family tree so I'd have some idea of where my family had ended up at. If they'd not all died off that was.  
Running a stressed hand through my thick fringe of hair, I dropped into my usual seat at the Gryffindor table, at which point a small handful of people seemed to click on to the fact I had most certainly not been there last year. It'd be funny if I weren't so nervous about interacting with everyone. Back in my own time, Hogwarts had been a zone for peace. Everyone sent their children their to learn, because it was safe. There was no bloodshed or battles there, simply because the wards wouldn't allow anyone in with those intentions. There we were train in magic to survive in the world. But these people weren't trained to survive, but to thrive and get a job. It was comfortable and almost safe here. If it weren't for this 'Dark Lord', it would be incredibly safe. Something I really wasn't used to feeling. Running my hand through my hair, I ignored the odd stares I was getting and instead focused upon the sorting that was taking place, clapping politely whenever people were sorted, and louder when a child was brought into our own. I didn't pay much attention until the Head-master, one Albus Dumbledore, stood up and gathered everyone's attention.

"Well, now that everyone is settled into our new houses, I would like to welcome a new face amongst us. Celina Peverell has joined our sixth year in Gryffindor; due to an unfortunate accident she will be completing her education with us now at Hogwarts. Now, I have only two words. Tuck in."  
There was a light glow and then the usual start of term banquet was laid out before us. I slowly began to pile a bit of everything onto my plate, making sure to stick to some of the healthier options before the eyes on my form became too much to ignore. Slowly, I looked up from beneath my fringe; as I'd leaned forwards, the strands that usually stopped just as my eyebrows did fell in front of my eyes. The girl that was looking at me seemed about my age, with bright red hair and startlingly green eyes. Shockingly green actually, I had never quite seen anything like them.

"Hello, my name's Lily Evans, I'm head girl this year. Am I right in guessing that you're Celina Peverell?"  
I straightened up slightly, assessing the girl. She seemed bright enough to put two and two together, and her magic felt well used, she was clearly a well practised witch. Considering I was completely out of my depth here, I obviously needed some allies. And as Head Girl, she'd certainly be a useful one to have. She was holding out her hand in what I'd been informed to be a 'hand-shake', which was now a common method of greeting. It'd apparently crossed over from the muggle-world, whom were now no longer aware of our existence. So much had changed. I took the extended limb and shook it like the Unspeakables had showed me, making sure to my eyes focused on Evans'.

"Celina Peverell."  
Evans let go of my hand and I sat back, startled slightly when a girl to my right immediately began firing questions.

"So, when's your birthday? How long have you been at Hogwarts? Did your accident have anything to do with the Death Eaters?"  
A scowl crossed my face and I leant back slightly, glaring at the unknown girl that'd stammered to a stop when I'd leant away from her.

"I believe that last question is exceedingly insensitive."  
She floundered, but I felt no pity for her, especially as she'd interrupted my conversation with a potential ally.

"But as it so happens, no, I am not here due to any actions of these 'Death Eaters'. It's my own stupid fault that I'm stuck here, and I'd appreciate it if you allow me to return to my conversation."  
Evans had sat down across from me now, looking between the two of us with a thoughtful frown upon her face.

"May I ask where you are from then? Your accents a bit... Off." Of course Evans would pick up on that, no matter how hard I'd tried these past few months, the accented old English still stuck ever so slightly, no matter how much I tried to layer over it, it still seeped through.

"Godric's Hollow originally." They didn't need to know I'd spent five years in Hogwarts, the Unspeakables had been pretty insistent that I tell no one untrustworthy I'm from the past. They didn't want me to fall into the hands of any of these so called 'Death Eaters' because apparently, some of the magic we'd been wielding was no longer widely practised here, and they didn't want it getting around. And seeing as I didn't fancy been cooped up anywhere to play teacher, it worked well enough for me.  
Evans hummed slightly around whatever she'd just eaten, interest obvious in her eyes. If she was Head Girl, that'd put her a year ahead of me, so perhaps I'd be able to get her to study with me.

"Well, welcome to Hogwarts Celina."

I wasn't too sure about the use of my first name, but that normally meant people were on good terms as far as I remembered. So that was good, I had an ally now. One with power that would quite possibly come to my aid when I was in need. Not that I planned on being in that position, but it was always good to have someone to call upon. Evans was kind enough to show me up to the Gryffindor common room, even though I already knew where I was going quite well. The girl that'd interrupted my introduction to Evans seemed rather annoyed at me, so it appeared I'd made an enemy as well as a friend, and oddly enough I was okay with that. It didn't surprise me she'd taken offence, but I wasn't going to show my under-belly to appease my dorm-mates. If they didn't want to be on amiable terms, then that was up to them. I'd just have to keep an eye on them.  
The two girls she was standing with her giggling away at something the girl had said, and it was obvious by their body language it was vicious and probably about me. Evans must have heard what it was, because she was quick to assign a detention to the three under the guise of them making the new student uncomfortable in unfamiliar surroundings.

"Don't listen to them," she huffed, gesturing for me to go first up the stone stairs that led to our rooms, "they're just jealous that they're not the center of attention."  
I nodded, quickly skimming the girls surface thoughts with legilimency to find out exactly what they'd said. Which turned out to be an unfavourable comment on my hair.

"What does it matter what my hair looks like?" I asked, watching as Evans blinked in confusion before a scowl crossed her face.

"I doesn't. They're just idiots who think being pretty means everything in the world."

"But it won't get them anywhere in life. How do they expect to survive in the world by making sure they look good? It's not like it matters how pretty their face is when their blood is splashed across it."  
Evans grimaced and I matched her expression, remembering too late that those kind of thoughts were considered morbid here. What a strange world, where the brutal honest truth was covered over with sugary white lies to lull the population into a haze of safety.

"That was rather morbid. They only care about finding a nice, respectable husband anyway."

"Then why do they care for beauty? Surely a woman would be chosen on magical strength and ability?" I'd clearly missed something, because Evans's was giving me the same look that Head-master Ropkins cat often gave the students who confused it.

"Er, right," the red head muttered and I cringed, realizing I'd completely shut down the conversation with my ignorance of the current times. I needed to get this back on track fast, before she decided I wasn't worth her time.

"Will warding my bed against them help?"

"Warding?" Evans repeated with a strange look upon her face, twisted with confusion and disbelief. I nodded, flicking my wand out before walking over to the bed at the foot of which my trunk sat. Slowly, I began adding in the wards that'd keep out all forms of menaces, from little rats to the larger rats that would study and sleep beside me. Evans was still staring as I finished off and the bed glowed orange and then green, signifying the warding had taken hold.

"Wh-what will those wards do?"  
I smiled, because that was something I was willing to answer.

"Anyone that attempts to go through my things or touch any of them with ill intent will be sucked up into the Hogwarts wards and deposited over Black lake. I've spent the past three days on them."  
Well, really I'd spent a good three months on them back at Hogwarts in my own time period, but Evans didn't need to know that. But apparently I'd picked the right topic, or rather, show cased the right skill if her enthusiasm was anything to go by.

"That's amazing. How in Merlin's name can you use the wards?"  
I was a little startled at the use of Merlin's name considering he'd only been dead for ninety four years to me, but pushed past it.

"There's lots of little threads in Hogwart's wards if you know what to look for. I've always been good at that sort of thing, because that's what my dad specialized in. I could teach you how to do it if you'd like."  
Evans went so far as to set a time the next day in which to begin working on it, something I was more than happy to do as a favour. I'd call my own in when I needed it. Deciding that cultivating one ally was enough for the day, I crawled into bed for the night, tired over my extensive use of warding magic.

Though I was pleased to learn upon awakening that one Gryffindor girl had been dropped into Black lake during the night, and was refusing to explain why or how it'd happened. That cheered me up considerably.

_**Chapter 2  
**__Someday I'll be big enough so you can't hit me  
And all you're ever gonna be is mean  
Why you gotta be so mean?__  
-Taylor Swift, Mean_

I'd quickly come to the conclusion that the vast majority of girls in this time period were not the warrior women that I'd become accustomed to. They would not survive in a duel, they would not survive on a battlefield. They would probably not survive one of the usual practice sessions that I was used to. They were catty, malicious and vain beyond all belief. If they were not the centre of attention, they resented it. And there were so very few exceptions. Thankfully, one of those was Evans herself. The red-head had caught hold of me as I was coming back into the common-room from my run. She'd still be in her sleeping attire, looking noticeably startled over the fact I was not only awake but dressed and going about my day. She took in the work-out gear that I'd been provided with during a trip to muggle London before she made her way over, tapping at my stomach as my torso quivered while I attempted to regain my breath.

"How long would I have to work out to get a stomach like that?" She asked, seemingly genuinely surprised that I took good care of my body. Of course I did. Everyone I'd ever known before this point did as well. A good body meant better speed, and better speed meant better chance at dodging the nasty curses that were fired. Like that pesky killing curse, that was certainly one that required a good deal of speed to dodge.  
I ran a nervous hand through my hair, shrugging and explaining the reason I went on my runs and exercises. Evans seemed to like the idea, because she requested I wake her the next morning so she could join in. I nodded slowly because a fitter ally could only ever be good. Evans explained that she was going to be heading out for her rounds now, so I was quick to excuse myself to a shower, making my way across the common-room. I was once again blocked, but this time by two male forms that looked incredibly surprised at my presence in the common room. The two boys were tall, one with messy black hair and the other with battle scars across his face that looked like they came from the claws of some large animal. They both took in my appearance at the same time I did there's before the raven haired one let out a low whistle.

"Man, Padfoot's gonna be upset he missed this." The scarred one elbowed his friend in the ribs, offering up a hesitant, sheepish smile as I raised a questioning brow. I didn't understand what they were referring to, and I wasn't too sure if I wanted to meet someone by the name of 'Padfoot'. It didn't sound like he came from a sensible family at all.

"Please ignore this idiot. Welcome to Gryffindor, I'm Remus Lupin."  
I offered up a nervous smile, wiping my sweaty hands upon the tight trousers that only reached halfway down my shins.

"I'd offer to shake your hand Lupin, but I'm afraid I'm not in any condition to do so right now."  
He smiled back whilst his companion pushed him to a side slightly.

"And I'm James Potter. You know, you might not be the prettiest face in Gryffindor, but you're certainly the fittest." Of course I was, the vast majority of the girls at our table had picked at their food and bragged at how much weight they'd lost over the summer. It was stupid, so that was no surprise to me if they weren't looking out for their bodies.

"It was a please to meet you both, but I'm afraid I must be going." They offered up a farewell before scampering back up to their dorms. Even the males behaved differently here, much less serious than anything I'd experienced before.

How strange.

* * *

James threw open the door to their common room, bouncing over to the bed of his best friend before dropping weightlessly forwards. Of course, all that weight came back once it was crashing down upon the once prone form of Sirius Black. The teen beneath him didn't even move, instead lying still and letting out a low groan of acceptance in regards to his current standing in life regarding James Potter. Or rather, lying beneath him.

"You should have gotten up Padfoot, the new girl was in the common room."  
Remus coughed from the doorway, obviously not happy with the fact James was fully planning on throwing the girl at the mercy of his womanising best friend, but he was quickly discarded.

"She works out Padfoot. She was in the common-room, all sweaty and wearing one of those muggle tops that stops at the ribs. Her tummy's all toned up. You missed out."  
Sirius was fully awake now, throwing the Potter boy off him and rubbing hastily at his eyes.

"Tell me I didn't miss it."

"You did," Remus finally murmured, rolling his eyes as he did so. Sirius was so obvious at times, and while he had an appreciation of the female figure, he wasn't as mad about it as Sirius was. No one was as mad about the female figure as Sirius was. The boy was known for his fraternizing with the opposite sex, even the teachers knew of it. Just not the full extent of Sirius Black's adventures.

"Tell me James is lying. You're joking with me, aren't you?"

"No, though my heart will forever belong to my Lily-flower, I can easily admit the lass is in need, very fit," James grumbled from the floor, pulling himself to his feet as Sirius let out the yowl of a wounded puppy.

"Don't worry Padfoot, she'll probably be working out tomorrow. You just need to get up early enough to enjoy it." The accompanying groan let the two boys know Sirius Black was at a very big dilemma and suffering for it.

They loved it.

* * *

"What do they mean by 'parading around'?" I'd sat down beside Evans at the Gryffindor table, ignoring the glares that the girl who'd interrupted me the previous night was sending. Evans scowled, buttering her toast with perhaps a little more force than what was probably necessary. The bread gained three tears before the red-head calmed herself enough to actually start eating it.

"They're just furious that you take the effort to look after yourself and they don't. They think you're trying to attract the Marauders with it. As if you'd have been able to get into shape quick enough in one night like that. Ha." She chomped down viciously on the toast, rolling her green eyes before returning to her buttery massacre as she picked up a second slice to cover.

"Who are the Marauders? And why would I want to attract them? I'm in shape so I can dodge curses. Less chance of getting hit the quicker I am."  
Evans sent me another one of her funny looks but I ignored it this time. Clearly a summer crash course was not the way to see me live a lie. There was no way I was going to be able to keep this secret forever. The only hope was that I could make it out of Hogwarts so that I had a full magical education under my belt to protect myself with.

"The Marauders are an idiot group of pranksters that go around picking on the Slytherins. Granted they haven't been so bad this year so far, but their leader ended up as Head Boy!" She snarled and actually tore at the bread in her hand and I leapt back slightly, eyes wide. Evans clearly had a little bit of a temper there, and I suspect this Head Boy and Marauder leader was a bit of a touchy nerve with her. From the sounds of it, he was a bit of a trouble maker. I had a rough idea of what pranks where, but the concept of cause problems for fun was so foreign to me it really wasn't sticking. Almost as if summoned by a thought, James Potter slid right in next to Evans, and I could tell by the instant crumpling of her face that this was the boy she'd been talking about. That, and the big 'Head Boy' badge was a bit of a give away. Lupin shrugged nervously, before dropping into the seat next to Potter, helping himself to some bacon.

"So Lily, how are we working the perfect patrols?"  
Clearly this wasn't what Evans had been expecting if her face was anything to go by. She seemed surprised, almost pleasantly so, at the boy's professional behaviour. I knew I hadn't read him wrong in the common-room, he was actually a decent person. Well, for now. I'd see how these so called 'pranks' worked first. My attention was drawn away as a body dropped into the seat beside me and an arm came to rest across my shoulders. I tensed, hand on my wand but didn't draw it quite yet. Attacking in broad daylight would be just stupid.

"Hi, I'm Sirius Black, welcome to Hogwarts." I knew the Black family, they were around back in my own time. They were a notoriously dark family, even more so than the Peverells. And we'd been touched by death. How odd that one would be in Gryffindor.

"Please remove your arm."  
He blinked a frown crossing his lips but something on my face must have said I was serious because he did so, albeit, slowly.

"So, where are you from?"

"Grew up in Godric's Hallow," I answered, taking hold of the fork and skewering a sausage upon it.

"Oh! Any relation to Ignotus Peverell?"  
My head snapped up, looking at Potter as he casually threw out my grand-father's name. He seemed just as surprised at my reaction, clearly having not expected something so extreme and he began babbling.

"It's just that he's my ancestor, actually, and I was wondering because maybe-"

"I think we should have a private talk," I finally answered, almost buzzing in excitement myself. Our line was still going strong, even if it had merged with the Potter one. Black, Evans and Lupin were all looking at me weirdly now but Potter slowly got to his feet, snatching up his bacon sandwich as he went before gesturing for me to lead on.

I was more than happy to lead him to the corridor just outside my first class, and overall he didn't seem to suspicious of my sudden knowledge of the castle. There was no way I couldn't tell him, this was family. Octavian clearly grew up well if he managed to have a family and keep them safe. All his descendants must have been strong to survive for seven hundred years without the line dying out.

"What's this about?" So I quickly began my story, explaining how I'd stumbled across the room, how it'd spat me back out here and I'd spent my summer with the Unspeakables. He clearly didn't believe me, and I racked my brains for a way to make him believe me when the idea hit me.

"Do you still have the cloak?" That got his attention.

"How do you-"

"My grand-father got it from Death itself. How do you think I know of it?"

"It's that invisibility cloak? The one from the stories?!" My head spun a bit, because I knew that my grandfather's story would eventually become stories and legends, but to actually hear it from someone seven hundred years down the line...

"So, your little brother is like, my super great granddad or something?" Potter asked, rubbing nervously at the back of his head and a little laugh left my throat, even as the boy took a gentle hold of my chin and lifted my face up so he could get a good look.

"You know," he rubbed at his own chin as he spoke, grinning, "my dad calls this the Peverell chin. I can see why now."  
A laugh escaped me again, because of all the things to share, it was the shape of our chin that was the most noticeable. James had hazel eyes, I had dark blue, he had black hair, I had dark brown. His was messy, mine was somewhat neat. I was tanned, he was palish. So of course it was something stupid like our chin.

"I think one of your great nieces made a mistake marrying a Potter, I mean, look at this nose." It took me a few seconds into my chuckles to realize he was trying to cheer me up. That he'd recognised the fact I actually had pretty much no family at all right now, and that he was sort of maybe offering it up in exchange. It was actually quite touching really, at least the distant family I did have here were okay.

"Do, do you mind if I tell my dad? He loves all the old stories around the cloak and to learn it is actually, well, you know..." He trailed off as I nodded, a grin splitting across his face before he grabbed hold of me and drew me into a hug.

"Welcome to the family."

_**Chapter 3  
**__And I'm hopin' my dreams  
Bring you close to me  
Are you listening?_

_-Kelly Clarkson, Hear Me_

The first two lessons were okay. A double block of transfigurations with the Hufflepuff's, who as I already guessed, didn't take too kindly to an intruder in their year. Oh sure, they didn't act like they disliked me, nor did they go out of their way to be uncomfortable. But they'd already recognised the fact some Gryffindor girl's have it out for me, and since they'd know those girls six years... Well, I was the outsider, let's leave it at that.  
It was potions that threw me out of the loop. Instead of just randomly taking seats at any desk they wanted, all the students lined up alongside one wall and stood mingling in their groups, clearly waiting for the teacher. I stood on my own, not at all uncomfortable with the eyes on me. Slytherins of course, would try to size you up. It was exactly the same back in my own time, and it was pleasant to know that some things didn't change, even with time. I'd have to prove myself to the lot of them if I didn't want any trouble. Transfiguration would have been a good time to do so, but of course, we didn't share class with them. So that left me with potions and defence to showcase my skills and keep the lot of them off my back. Maybe make some allies if they looked somewhat promising. It was at this point the door burst open and a portly looking man made his way in, shuffling about the papers he held in his hand. He took in the lot of us before smiling, rocking back on his heels and clasping the paper before him.

"Welcome back students, to another year of potions. Now, the lot of you will have gotten an E at least in your NEWTS, so you all certainly show promise, now, shall we get you seated?"  
I watched apathetically as this man, Professor Slughorn, assigned seats seemingly at random. I made sure to try and put the names to faces. It wasn't until the third pair in that I realized that he was putting a Gryffindor with a Slytherin together, which seemed a bit of an explosive reaction waiting to happen. I frowned a bit, before snapping to attention as my name was called.

"Peverell 'ey?" Slughorn repeated himself, rubbing his chin as he took me in and I stood tall and proud. Some of the Slytherins had paused in whatever they'd been doing, turning to look at what had caught the interest of their head of house. "I've heard some things from an ex-student of mine that works at Gringotts, I heard you claimed the Peverell vault that was originally owned by Ignotus, the one from the Hallows story? Is that true?"  
I cringed because yes, that was really lying low. It seemed whenever the Hallows story was mentioned everyone snapped to attention, even the Gryffindors were now looking with dawning realization in their eyes. Even if they'd had a small moment of 'oh, I've heard that name before', now they'd actually be able to start connection the dots. And all it would take was one noise student looking into the historical records before they realized that the Peverell line should have died off a good few hundred years ago. And that would spell trouble for me. Thanks Slughorn.  
But regardless, perhaps it was best to confirm it and keep the Slytherins interested. That meant allies.

"Yes sir," I finally answered, watching as Slughorn's face lit up.

"And can you tell us anything about the Hallows? Are they really from Death itself?" Like hell if I'm answering that question.

"I'm afraid that's a family secret sir."

"Oh, of course. Anyway Miss Peverell, you'll be sat next to Mr Crouch over on the back left bench."  
I nodded, lips thinning before making my way over to the desk and dropping my books onto the surface. A boy with sandy blond hair followed after me, sliding gracefully into the seat beside me and I offered a weary smile. As Slughorn continued sorting out the rest of his class, 'Crouch' turned to look at me and offered up his hand in greeting.

"Bartemius Crouch Jr. But everyone just calls me Barty." Okay, offered up the chance to us the nickname, that's good.

"Celina Peverell."

"So are you related to Ignotus Peverell?"

"Grand-daughter," I answered truthfully, watching as Crouch's lips lifted up in a little smile, obviously taking my words as a joked.

"I bet there's a good deal of greats before that."  
I hummed slightly, neither agreeing or disagreeing. I would not outright lie about my heritage, it was something to be proud of. My grand-father and his brothers were great wizards, up until Death tricked the other two up. Regardless, I wasn't going to go shouting it out and about either. I'm not that much of an idiot.

"Well, I could show you around the grounds if you like, after class that is."  
I paused, tapping my fingers against the desk in the meantime. It was true I wasn't suppose to know my way around that well, and if Crouch was offering, then-

"I don't see why not."

At some point during the lesson, Crouch became Barty. It must have been somewhere between the witty banter we had going, and the potions explosion at the front of the room. Barty had given the Slytherin boy a pitying look, apparently it was a miracle the Gryffindor he was working with had even made it into Potions class. Barty was almost positive it had to be a fluke, and looking at the state of the sloppy mess upon the floor, I had to agree with him. The fact it was one of the girls who seemed to have it out for me didn't factor into it at all, but it was rather sweet to know she was useless in at least one class. I was passable in potions, certainly capable of getting a O if I put the effort it, but Barty was all around smart. He tried excessively hard at all of his classes, a fact which shone through when he proudly announced to me that he had twelve OWL's. The grading had been explained to me over summer -I had ten myself, but only because they didn't have any OWL's for magical manipulation, warding or elemental magic, which was exceedingly stupid- so to learn he had an O in all those subjects was rather surprising.  
I'd lucked out with my potions partner, because he would make a fabulous ally in Hogwarts at the very least.

As we were packing up, Barty even offered to carry my books, to which I raised an amused eyebrow before declining, more than happy to explain I didn't care about the weight, carrying anything would help keep me in shape and thus, in better conditions for duels. Barty had actually laughed and declared he was very much looking forwards to our defence lesson, as long as we didn't have a useless teacher again. I wasn't quite sure what to make of that statement but rolled with it, shrugging my shoulders and following after Barty as he led me along to the entrance hall. We both had a free period before dinner, so it was more than enough time for the two of us to head out for a walk around the grounds. What I wasn't expecting was for two more Slytherin boys to come over and join us. Barty leapt into action, happily introducing us.

Rabastan Lestrange was a tall, slightly thin teen in my year with a thick head of dark hair that came with a precise wave to it, cropped short onto of his head. He seemed quiet, but that was the only impression I was able to get of him in such a short time. The other boy was also in my year, and I recognised the family resemblance almost instantly. There was no way this wasn't a relation of Sirius Black. Barty introduced him as Regulus Black, and the boy easily complied with pure-blood regulations and kissed the knuckles of my hand instead of shaking like everyone else had so far. Barty and Lestrange stuttered, having clearly forgotten the gesture and I sent them a patronising look that both clearly didn't appreciate.

"So," Barty murmured after a pause, looking between both Black and Lestrange before grinning, "shall we get going?"

* * *

"She's on another run again."

It was three weeks into the start of term now, and ever since James and Celina had had that little talk, his best buddy in the whole wide world had refused to inform him when the girl was off running. So, Sirius had come to rely on Wormtail of all people, to tell him when and where the girl was heading out.

The only problem was, Wormtail sucked as a spy.

He still hadn't gotten a good look at her, but he was a determined man. If James -who was now in a tentative friendship with Lily- proclaimed the girl to be fit and worth a look, then the girl was fit and worth a look.

So, Sirius leapt up and out of bed, dashing over to the window and snatching up the enchanted spy-o-scope as he went. Levelling the thing with his eye, he took a sneaky look over towards the figure running around the lake. It wasn't until his eyes actually adjusted to the lens that he realized it was in fact, three people. He knew that the little Peverell girl had been hanging around with that Crouch kid and his own not-brother -everyone had heard James and Celina's blow out over it two weeks ago- but he hadn't seen the proof until now. And he hadn't expected to see little Crouch and the not-brother working out with the girl in the morning.

Why hadn't he thought of that?

Here he was hollowed up in the tower, and there they were, getting a good close look at her.

Growling beneath his breath, Sirius retreated back to bed for the day. Five o'clock was far too early to be awake after all.

* * *

He honestly had no idea why he'd started turning up to the girl's work-outs when he'd found out about them. He had even less of an idea as to why pure-blood prince Regulus Black had joined in. But he was glad he did. The girl was right, he was feeling fitter, and he was starting to do better when it came to duelling. Not that he'd ever admit it, the girl was smug enough as it was. And she wasn't like all the other girls, fawning over one or the other of the Black brothers. She didn't seem to care past having some connections to people who were half decent and could possibly help her out in the future. All she cared about was getting stronger magically, increasing her knowledge. If her ideals were even a tiny bit like his own, he might have even mentioned joining up the Death Eaters. But, while the girl had cleared up that she was Dark, she didn't agree. She didn't care about the muggle-borns, but she did disagree with killing them off. To her, magical blood was magical blood, and any spilt at all was stupid. She said she'd never accept that route to getting Dark magic back on track. If that wasn't enough, he'd heard a startling rumour that she was in fact, related to Potter. So it was a big no-no on inviting her to join the group. That didn't mean the girl didn't know some insanely Dark magic that most people had not only forgotten how to practice, but that it had even existed. When asked, she'd explained her grand-father had taught her, but said nothing more on the subject. And since he knew her family was without a doubt dead -and what an uncomfortable conversation that'd been- Barty didn't push. He wanted to, but he didn't.

* * *

**Honestly, this is just going to be a collection of story ideas I've had, wrote up and then lost interest in. Some day they may rise from their shallow graves, but until that day, I'm going to stick them in here. So obviously they're not quite as polished as the rest of my stuff.**

**Tsume  
xxx**


	2. Painted Oil Stains

**Painted Oil Stains**

_**Prologue**_

It was his fifth year, the very year that Sirius had ran away from home, and Regulus Black could not sleep. At all. It was completely alluding him, whilst all his dorm mates snored away in a background symphony that echoed around the dorm room until he'd just had to leave.

Which had seen him climbing the stairs at two o'clock in the morning to the common room, one hand running through his ruffled hair and a sigh on his lips. Surely at some point sleep would over-come him if he sat before the fire and enjoyed a small rest? He made it to the top of the stairs, noting the warm orange glow that signalled a fire was still going, Which was good, at least he wouldn't have to bothered the house-elves to get another one up and running. It took his sleep addled brain a moment though to realize that the common room was in fact not empty, and if he'd have stepped out of the shadows, the conversation that was currently going on would have come to a grinding halt.

Well, if it could be called a conversation. It certainly wasn't in English, and as soon as Regulus recognised the sharp, low sounds he froze in place, heart clenching fearfully in his chest. It was quiet, no one would hear anything unless they were already up and out of bed, heading for the common room, and Regulus knew no one else moved as silently as he did. If this were anyone other than him, then the conversation would have already been over with no one knowing what was actually going on in the center of Slytherin house. Regulus could barely believe it himself, but someone was speaking Parseltongue. He was almost certain of it, for what else could those sharp, hissing sounds be?  
There was a portrait of Salazar Slytherin in the common-room, but it didn't speak to anyone. Or, at least, they all had thought it didn't speak to anyone. Well it clearly spoke alright, just not in any language they knew. All but one person evidently.

A light giggle brought him out of his thoughts and Regulus instantly focused upon the figure, trying to decipher who it was. Sat before the portrait of their esteemed founder, a girl was curled up in an overly large chair, wearing a jumper that was several sizes too big and-

Regulus blushed.

And apparently only that and a pair of small panties. At least, he hoped she was wearing some panties under that jumper; it reached half-way down her thighs so he couldn't really tell.

Trying to fight down the redness staining his cheeks, Regulus took in the thick dark hair and light blue eyes that the girl currently had directed on the portrait as she was addressed. He recognised her; Opal Gaunt, the very same year as him but very much a loner, even within Slytherin house. She was notable for her charms work, but that was all he really knew about her. To think, she'd been hiding such a big secret as this?

Slytherin must have said something more humorous because the girl let out a rather unattractive snort before she stood, offering their founder a rather shallow curtsey with the oversized hem of her jumper. The man and his snake must have hissed a good-bye, because Gaunt gave a timid little wave before she disappeared to the other side of the room, escaping into the girls' dorm. Slowly, Regulus turned on heels and made his way back to his own bed. Now this was something to ponder.

And of course, prime black-mail material.

_**Chapter 1**_

_A Hogsmeade with a Difference_

Rocking back on my heels, I brushed a loose strand of dark hair back from my face, frowning into the mirror. It was the twenty third of October, a Saturday and the weather was starting to come in a bit chilly now. Hogsmeade weekend was upon us, and all the other girls had been racing around the Slytherin girl's dorm in a vain attempt to make themselves even prettier for the journey. Several times Raina Zabini had passed me by with a raised eyebrow, crudely inspecting my make-up free face until I have caved upon her fifth gaze and allowed her to paint my face.  
The end result was rather pleasing in the mirror, but for all the painting that I did, I had no talent when it came to touching up my own face.

My name is Opal Gaunt, only child and Slytherin fifth year. I'm not much to look at usually, up until fourth year my eyes didn't even look in the same direction without thick glasses. It was only because my mother inherited some money that my dad and I can even see properly without correction lenses now. Though I still need them if I'm reading for too long. Regardless, I'd never been the prettiest girl in Slytherin, and with the likes of the Zabini heiress in the same year, well...

Though I suppose it could have been worse, I could have gone to school at the same time as the infamous Black sisters did, that'd have really been a blow to the ego. I can still remember Narcissa back from when I was a first year, and I'd been frozen in terror over the fact she was so beautiful. It was a blessing that the only Blacks at school now were boys, a godsend that every girl in school was would forever be thankful for.

"Gaunt, are you done with that mirror yet?"

I looked up, startled, only to see Sandra Parkinson fluffing her hair up, obviously wanting for me to vacate my spot. I did so quite happily. Even though I co-existed with them, there was no love lost between myself and the rest of the Slytherin girls. In fact, I don't think that any of us were really friends, with us it was more a symbiotic relationship, you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. Zabini did everyone's make-up if requested for a big night, Parkinson was especially good with hair. Starlet Selwyn was good at putting together outfits. And what did I contribute to this partnership? Perfumes.

I work a lot with wizarding oils since one of my electives was art, and as one of the others was care of magical creatures, I'd quickly learnt the necessity of smelling nice. It'd gotten to the point where I could put together my own perfumes, and in exchange for them, the other girls were more than willing to help me out with anything else I need.

"Gaunt, do you have any of that vanilla one left?" Speaking of which...

I looked over at Selwyn before nodding, wordlessly summoning the small bottle in question from the collection my bed-side cabinet before carefully throwing it to her. I didn't usually wear any unless I'd had a painting day -or was out for a CoMC lesson, but everyone used one after that, so it didn't really count- but I was more than happy to share what I had if it made dorm relations easier.

"Just make sure you put it back where you got it, okay?" I didn't wait for an answer, already knowing they would do so as I made my way out the door.

.

Selwyn had chosen a very nice white jumper for me today, and I was thankful the girl had actually paid attention to the weather outside. I'm not going to lie, for all of my 'artist vision', I honestly had trouble matching up the best of my outfits. One day in the distant future, maybe I'd learn, but right now, I was more focused on getting my portraits to animate permanently. I'd chosen it as an elective because art was something I was good at, and there'd been a notable decline in the artists in England over the last three decades, so it wouldn't be too hard for me to find a job. Or at least, I hoped.

Running a hand through the thick locks, I dropped into a carriage with two of the girl's from third year, who were clearly quite excited to be heading out for their first weekend in Hogsmeade. They shot me a curious look before returning their sights to the carriage three ahead of us, which was housing, surprise surprise, the infamous Marauders.  
The main attraction, Black and Potter, were messing about with a rather large balloon that shot around like a spell gone wild as they let it go, a loud, obnoxious noise following its form as it went. The short fat one, Pettigrew I think, was laughing aloud and Lupin, the quiet one, was even smiling a bit at their antics. Even if their hate for Slytherins was famous, the two girls I was sitting with clearly didn't mind eyeing them up, even if they'd never be able to act on their little crushes.

"Do you girls mind if I hope in?"

The three of us paused at the sound of the distinctly male voice and I turned to get a better look at the source. Regulus Black was stood casually with his hands in his pockets, looking the perfect part of the cool, pure-blood heir as he stood waiting for our confirmation. I honestly didn't care if he did join us, and if their giggling was anything to go by, the third years were more than happy to have him aboard. What was curious though was why the boy was here at all, and where his friend Crouch was.

Black gracefully climbed in, dropping into a seat next to me and I frowned a little, having fully expected him to start flirting with the third years. Why he was sat next to me, I had no idea at all.

"It is Opal Gaunt, right?" He asked, light silver eyes not once drifting over to look at the now dejected third years and I slowly nodded.

"Erm, yeah. Like the gem that I don't represent very well," I added lamely, watching as the corner of Black's mouth twitched up slightly, clearly amused at my horrible attempt at conversation. The boys and girls in Slytherin didn't really mix all that well together, seeing as must of the pure-bloods -maybe myself included- would be pushed together in arranged marriages, so there was no point in truly going after a relationship. At least, as a girl. Boys were suppose to come to you, that's just how it was in the snake pit. So my confusion was obvious in regards to Black's presence here.

"Well, sometimes all gems need are a little polishing and they shine brightly."  
What the hell was he talking about? I was pretty sure he wasn't flirting with me; I'd seen how Black -and just about every other boy in my year- flirted by watching them interact with the fourth and third year girls. His tone was all wrong, so I was pretty sure he wasn't here for that. So why the hell as he talking to me?

"Well I'm pretty sure I should have been called 'coal' or something then," I muttered in response, trying to gauge the boy's reaction as the carriages pulled us onwards to Hogsmeade. We were getting pretty close now, and I shuffled in my seat, eager to go and stock up on Honeydukes chocolates.

"When enough pressure is put on a lump of coal, it turns into a diamond, did you know that?"  
My attention snapped back to Black, who was looking at me with an odd glint in his eyes. The carriage stuttered to a stop and he stood up, gesturing for the two third years to get down before him. They tittered as they went, blushes staining their cheeks and I smiled at their obviousness. Black hopped down next before extending a hand to me as an offer for polite support, which I weary accepted.

"And I'd say when they're disguised as coal, diamonds have quite a few hidden abilities. Wouldn't you agree?"

And then he was gone, disappearing back into the crowd after helping me down. I couldn't tell where he'd gone, my vision -which was not the greatest to begin with- blocked by those peskily tall seventh years. What the hell did he mean by hidden abilities? My art and perfumes were no big secret, so I hadn't the foggiest what he was talking about.

Deciding to put it down as one of Regulus Black's oddities, and with a brother like he had, there was no way he had gotten out of a childhood with him completely normal, I turned my attention to the shops instead, determined to forget this strange adventure.

_**Chapter 2**_

_A Dirty Trick_

It was three days later when I finally clicked onto what Black had been talking about. And it happened through no incredible brain wave from myself. In fact, it was during care of magical creatures, a class I shared unfortunately with Black. Otherwise I would probably have never noticed his sharp gaze when Kettleburn brought out a Runespoor of all things. The lot of our class, consisting of the Slytherins and Ravenclaw fifth years, were gathered around just on the outskirts of the forbidden forest, and I had a sketchbook pressed up against my chest. Out of the entire class, I was one of four girls, and the only Slytherin female amongst us. Black, Crouch and Lestrange made up the rest of the Slytherins present, as opposed to the eight Ravenclaws in our midst. Strangely enough, I'd never felt out-numbered before. In fact, in previous lessons I'd looked at is as I was one of the four girls against the eight boys. But ever since that Hogsmeade trip, I'd been unable to shake the fact I was well and truly a Slytherin, and now I only saw myself as an outcast of the Slytherins present, even with Black's heavy gaze upon my shoulders.

"Now I want the lot of your to keep well back," Kettleburn murmured from his perch on a rock, looking at the Runespoor he'd gotten out for us today. It was placed within a magical boundary, so there was no way the three-headed snake would be getting at any of us. Not that it apparently had any interest in the 'smelly two legs' considering it had a pesky little rabbit to chance around instead. The sleek black stripes that littered its body glittered in the early winter sun, its bright orange scales a glare against the dusty earth it was laid out upon.

"Who can tell me about a Runespoor then?"  
Usually I didn't offer up to answer questions, because one of the Slytherin boys was usually able to get everything right before the Ravenclaws could claim all the points that Kettleburn gave out. But I was feeling pretty confident given the nature of our current animal, so I let my hand steadily rise into the air, doing my best to ignore Kettleburn's surprise.

"Okay then Miss Gaunt, what can you tell us?"

"A Runespoor quite clearly has three heads, a planner, a dreamer, and the critic, the latter of which is the venomous head. It's the only known species of snake to produce its eggs from its mouth, and they usually have them young." A blush stained my cheeks when I noticed Kettleburn looked impressed. It was almost as if he didn't read my essays at all, otherwise he'd be aware that I knew my stuff, and that I just didn't like talking too much.

"Very good Miss Gaunt, can you identify the heads?"  
I paused, turning to look at the snake that was currently ripping into the now dead rabbit, trying to focus on what they were saying between the mouthfuls of meat whilst appearing like I was actually thinking about it.

"The one on the left is the critic, it keeps pausing between bites to tell the others off, probably for eating wrong or something stupid like that." In actuality, that's what the head was complaining about, and I could see the planner was starting to get quite annoyed over it. In fact, we might even get to witness the famous moment when a Runespoor turns on its own head, leading to the death of all three. "The one on the right is the dreamer, you can tell because its not really taking in anything the critic says, leaving the middle to be the planner."  
Kettleburn clapped, offering me a surprisingly large amount of praise and I nodded, ducking my head and allowing a curtain of hair to fall over and cover my face. All the way through, Black's eyes had not left me once, and I was starting to feel really nervous. Had I insulted him by accident or something? I did my best to ignore it, instead focusing upon the lesson.

.

"Gaunt."  
I paused in my trek across the grounds, turning to get a look at the person who was addressing me. Though I already knew who it was. Black was stood, Crouch and Lestrange beside him, both of whom seemed just as confused as I was about their presence here.

"Can we talk for a moment?"  
Tightening my hold on my sketchbook, I nodded slightly, watching as Black gestured for his friends to go on ahead of us. They did so, but with clearly curious looks upon their sly face as they watched Black walk over to me and I shuffled my feet nervously.

"So, was that Runespoor really telling the others to watch their eating?"

"I said it was like it was telling them," I amended, watching as Black's face fell.

"I heard you talking to Slytherin's portrait."

Oh.

I'd stopped as he spoke, looking down at my sketchbook clutched tightly to my chest and trying not to hyperventilate. He was looking back at me with his head tilted ever so slightly to the left, a curious eyebrow raised. I tried not to shake, instead looking away from his and scowling.

"Well if that's all you wanted," I made to turn on my heels and get the hell out of there, right up until Black grabbed my wrist and forced me to a stop. It was nothing like the pure-blood behaviour I'd seen from his before, so quite clearly this had to be annoying him. Wonderful, I'd managed to catch his attention.

"Why do you hide it? The others would treat you like a god." And by others, he meant the rest of the Slytherins.

I sighed slightly, trying to tug my arm back from his and well aware I was looking insanely childish by doing so. I as just past the point of caring now though, so much so that I really just wanted to go and talk to Salazar or cry.

Maybe both.

At the same time.

"I don't want any ties to this Dark Lord," I finally muttered lowly, still trying to free my wrist and refusing to look back at my captor, "I don't think a terrorist war is a very Slytherin way to go about changing things."

That was enough to have him let go of my arm and I didn't taken a moment to hesitate.

I fled.

* * *

**More scribbly scrawl for your perusal. **

**Tsume**

**xxx**


	3. To Lose Face

**To Lose Face**

Tom Riddle had never actually lost his fake visage, but then again, neither had that girl from Gryffindor. Right up until fifth year, when he caught her face slipping off, literally. How did he not know there was a Metamorphmagi in his class?

_**Prologue**_

Valentina Morgan came from a small wizarding village along the eastern coast of England, where she lived in a cosy little cottage with her pure-blood father and her pure-born mother, both of whom came from small, pure-blood families. She had grown up there from a day old baby to an eleven year old child. And then, like every other magical child, she was shipped off to Hogwarts. Upon arrival, she was sorted into Gryffindor where she spent four years of her education in peace. Up until fifth year. How do I know that? Because I am Valentina Morgan, I lived that nice, oh so peaceful life. I remember it perfectly, it might as well be a one of those decorative stain glass windows, it was so pretty. So of course, someone had to go throwing rocks and shatter it. I just didn't expect to fine the rocks in perfect Tom Riddle's hands. This is how he not only found out my secret, but made his way into my life with all the subtly of a dragon.

_**Chapter 1  
**__A Little Note_

_x_

It all started, of course, with a tiny, innocent note, delivered on a tiny, innocent owl during the course of our breakfast. I sat with the other girls that shared my dorm. We weren't especially close to one another, but that was to be expected. They'd all grown up together, and while I was so focused upon controlling my magic during our first year of Hogwarts, they'd gone and bonded over things without me. And now I just kind of sat awkwardly on the edge of things, not quite excluded from the group, but never included either. I remember I'd been eating bacon, sausage and eggs, because it was the second food item that caught in my throat and almost killed me when I read the note.

It was a simple little thing, sent by a school owl which on its own was an odd enough coincidence. I hadn't been expecting any post, seeing as mother and father had already sent me a good deal of books and confectionery to see me through to the end of the month. And as I'd only been at school for three days, I wasn't expecting another letter off them so soon. For a few moments, I played, even hoped, that perhaps it was a secret admirer. But who? The head boy Diggory over in Ravenclaw was very much sort after, as was the Lestrange heir in Slytherin, and he was only a year older than I was. A blush dusted my cheeks at the idea of either of them sending me a note, before the most forbidden fantasy of all entered my head.

Riddle.

Every girl from first year and up knew who Riddle was, the dashingly handsome muggle-born who'd done the impossible and not only gotten sorted into Slytherin, but cracked the house. He was the person to know. And he also never graced us measly peasants with his presence, not unless he was offering help or just being his genuinely charming self. Even the teachers were in love with him.

But, alas, it was like having a crush on a Quidditch player. You admired from afar, but never approached. You'd never get close enough anyway, and would just suffer a humiliating defeat where you'd be kicked to the curb by the other fans. I might play with the idea of kissing the boy, of being the only girl to ever center his world, but so did everyone else. That's all it was, a fantasy. And I was realistic. There was no possible way that he would ever give anyone the time of day. He as just too busy being perfect for that. He was the celebrity crush that everyone had. Rumour was it that he was asexual, which only made him even more untouchable than he already was. It was painful to admit, but it was only the truth.

No one got close to Riddle. It was easier to set your sights closer to the ground.

Which brings me back to Lestrange and Diggory. Both very good looking boys, both single, and most importantly, both actually in reaching distance. Otherwise known as not being an impossible target. All those fluffy feelings clouded my head for a second, so that when I actually read the note, I almost passed it off as nothing important.

Until I actually figured out what the words were saying, at which point it seemed like my breath was trapped in my lungs. But that might have been the sausage in my throat.

It was only a few little words, but it still made me feel sick.

I could feel a pair of eyes on me, probably the person who sent my little day-crusher, but I couldn't summon the will to look up, only to keep staring at the note with dawning horror.

'_I know.  
Meet me at the seventh floor before the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy after dinner._'

There was no name attached, of course there was no name attached. I was being threatened. They were hardly going to let me go to a teacher after all.  
And so began one of the worst days of my life.

* * *

Classes were a struggle to get through. There was no other way to put it. I was a bundle of nervous energy that was constantly on the move. Slughorn had given me a very worried glance, but his was the last class before dinner, so it was no surprise I was torn between leaping up out of my seat to go and sort everything out, and sinking into it in hopes I'd get glued to the spot and have to remain there. It was an awful, dreaded feeling that nestled in the pit of my stomach and made me feel constantly sick. I couldn't quite deal with the pressure, I'd never actually expected anyone to ever find out. But, the way they' handled it did let me know a few things.

First, my note writer was not a Gryffindor in any way, because one of my fellow lions would have been more than happy to just scream me out during dinner. A Hufflepuff would have confronted me, but been a bit more discrete about it. Like pull me to a side after lessons. It also couldn't be a first year, because none of them would have a reason to explore the seventh floor yet. Which left me with all the Slytherins and Ravenclaws that were second year and above. So I hadn't really narrowed it down completely, but it was slightly better than what I'd been thinking to begin with.

A Ravenclaw would probably want to conduct a study.

A Slytherin would just want the black-mail.

It was clear and as simple as that. And I knew which one I would favour my note writer being. But knowing my luck, it was going to be a snake. I could only hope whoever it was didn't spread anything around.

Sighing, I ran a stressed hand through my hair, casually checking that it was the same colour I'd picked out before my first day of school. Back then, I really hadn't wanted the attention that being a metamorphmagi would bring. I'd gone out of my way to keep the same face throughout the year. And by the end of the year, I'd found no one who I trusted enough to keep it secret. It was maddening, having this huge secret that I didn't want out, because if I trusted the wrong person, suddenly I'd become a freak-show to the whole school. And I didn't want that. Having my mum ask me to change my hair to match my dress had been enough as a child. Thank goodness we weren't a social family.

"And you're dismissed."

I snapped to attention, looking over at Slughorn who was now stood at the front, checking out each of our vials and either nodding or shaking his head at them. With a stone slowly sinking in my stomach, I stood up, gather my things and headed off to dinner.

.

Unfortunately, dinner passed far too quickly, and far too soon, I found myself stood before the portrait in question. Barnabas looked back out at me before offering a cheery wave, still recounting the trolls dancing steps as they wobbled about in the portrait beside him. And then, he addressed me.

"Miss Morgan is it? You want that door there." He waved his hand dismissively towards one of the walls and I frowned, turning to look at the empty wall in question. Or rather, what had once been an empty wall. Instead, there was a simple, unassuming oak door, the kind that led to all the broom closets in school and I shuffled about uncomfortably at the very thought of it. I'd rather have my secret be outed than be conned into any form of canoodling with my black-mailer. I adjusted the strands of my hair till they were all tucked neatly behind my ears, sighing as I did so. There really wasn't any way out of this that I could see, but that didn't mean I was happy about it. With a frown, I pulled open the door, and then stopped.

The room inside was exceedingly spacious, and if I was guessing correctly, looked exactly like the Slytherin common-room. Great, just what I needed. There was an illusion up on the windows -which really shouldn't be there because we were in the center of school- that looked out under the lake, and there was a small, roaring fire going in the fire-place. Two chairs, obviously one for me and one for my note writer, were pulled up in front of it, and situated so that I wouldn't be able to see who it was until I'd sat down, thus announcing my presence.

Whoever this was, they were good.

Which was exceedingly upsetting.

I dropped my things on a nearby desk, hoping it'd make them turn around and face me, but no such luck. Carefully, I adjusted the wand holster upon my arm, making sure it was free to shoot my wand down the second I needed it before I finally admitted defeat, cautiously making my way over and dropping into a chair.

I just wasn't expecting to be face with Tom Riddle casually drinking a cup of tea.

_**Chapter 2  
**__The Unbreakable Vow_

_x_

My brain spluttered to a stop for a second before kicking into overdrive. What was he doing here? Surely not, but then, who else would be smart enough, subtle enough to set all of this up? I was clearly missing something in regards to Tom Riddle's character, because the nice, perfect Perfect would never have set this up.

My fists clenched, gathering up the material of my skirt at the sudden action and a scowl came over my face. He looked so relaxed, sipping tea out of a delicate little tea-cup and looking more as if he were sat down for a casual discussion with a politician, not for black-mailing a class-mate.

Wordlessly, he pushed the tray of tea upon the coffee-table forwards, offering me my own drink. My wand was out instantly and I cast several charms upon the tea-pot, looking for any truth serum or mind alteration potions. Nothing was out of the questions, and I could feel my expectations of Tom Riddle dropping faster than the rock in my stomach had previously.  
The tea-pot came out clean, and when I looked up at Riddle, instead of the offended face I was expecting, there was a little satisfied smiled upon his face instead, almost as if I'd done just what he wanted. Which only made me that much more nervous and suspicious. I refused the speak first, seeing as I was the black-mailee, and Riddle would obviously have to get up at some point and start on his mountain of duties as Hogwarts' so called 'greatest student'.

Just to be annoying, I took an unusually loud sip of my tea and watched as Riddle's lips curved up in another amused, almost exasperated smile.

"Miss Morgan... May I ask if this is the right face that I am meeting?"  
My scowl deepened and I set my tea down, drawing my my legs up to my chest after I'd kicked off my shoes. I was exceptionally careful to make sure my skirt fell in such a way that Riddle wouldn't see anything.

"It's the only face that matters at this point," I grumbled out under my breath, loud enough for Riddle to not only hear but to understand my displeasure at being forced into this situation. He just smiled slightly, and was if anything, more amused.

"It must be an exceedingly useful skill, one would wonder why you hide it."  
I honestly wish I could just read his mind and find out what the hell he wants from me. The only thing I now know for certain is that Tom Riddle is without a doubt hiding something, otherwise I wouldn't be here.

"Perhaps to avoid becoming the school circus's solo act."  
He hummed in agreement, reaching for a biscuit off the tray he'd set up and lazily nibbling upon the corner. His manners were absolutely perfect and it was down right infuriating to watch him. He was calm, casual and in control of the situation, and I was none of these.

And he knew this.

"Stop hiding." He held up a hand to cut short my exclamation before it began, carefully setting his half-eaten biscuit down on the saucer as he did so. "Hear me out Miss Morgan, you start to make the general school aware of your talents, and I will cut down the circus before it can even open for the first showing."

"What's in it for you." It wasn't even a question, more of a demand really. Because there had to be something in it for Tom Riddle, he was a Slytherin. He'd never do this, ruin his perfect little reputation in front of me, not unless he gained something from me. And he must have had something in mind, to move so quickly and efficiently as he did.

"I was hoping that you'd be able to help me out over the year, I have a few things planned that would require someone of your, unique talents. Polyjuice is far too much of a chore to brew."  
What the hell could Tom Riddle possibly have planned that would require polyjuice? It sounded dangerous and exciting and could I really agree to this? Not that I had much of a choice, I still had the most to lose in regards to this entire meeting. Tom could still out my secret and leave me to be ripped apart by all students, and perhaps even some of the staff.  
Namely, Slughorn.

"I want an unbreakable vow that you'll keep them off my back."  
Riddle blinked, and for perhaps the first time in this entire meeting, I'd done something to throw him off course. If only for a second. Slowly he nodded his head ever so slightly, standing up and brushing down his shirt, as if there had been any dirt upon there.

"I shall go and fetch us a bonder then. Unless you have any preference?" Oh, he knew I wasn't especially close to anyone, that was just to tease.

I shook my head, gesturing for him to leave as I reached over for a biscuit. As Riddle left the door, I crumpled in on myself, letting out a low, whining breath.

This wasn't what I'd expected at all.

.

It took Riddle fifteen minutes to return, and by that point, I was ashamed to admit to the fact the plate of biscuits was now half empty. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing more, instead walking in with the Lestrange heir following after him. The older boy seemed somewhat confused as to why exactly I was here, but Riddle seemed to have explained to him what we'd be doing, because he casually pulled his wand from his pocket, and waited for us to get into the correct position. I knelt on the soft rug before the fire and watched as disdain lit up Riddle's eyes. Clearly he wasn't too pleased that we'd both be kneeling, this putting us on evening standing. Physically that was. I was quickly coming to the realization that Tom Riddle was very much out of my league when it came to everything else.

"Anne," I murmured as Riddle finally got on his knees and offered me his right hand, upon noting his confusion, I clarified, "my middle name."

"Marvolo."  
What? That wasn't a muggle name. What the hell happened to the whole muggle-born prince of Slytherin? Had I missed something, or was this just not common knowledge?  
Lestrange's wand pressed down on our joining thumbs and a shuddery breath left me, knees suddenly feeling weak. Riddle's hand was strong and taunt in my own, his eyes intense and focused upon our joining limbs.

"Will you, Tom Marvolo Riddle," -and didn't that name work incredibly well?- "protect me from any form of harm that our fellow students may cause me upon the revealing of my previously discussed secret, to the best of your ability?" I wanted to make this air tight, there was no way the boy was getting out of this, because I knew he'd be doing the exact same with the vows I'd take.

"I will," he murmured and a stream of brilliant red light came from Lestrange's wand, coiling around our hands up to Riddle's wrist, dancing with energy. I could feel it crackling next to my skin and another shuddery breath left me.

"Will you, Valentina Anne Morgan aid me of whatever task I ask of you within our schooling years?"

"I will," I murmured after he paused for a moment and another burning tongue of light wrapped around our hand, stretching up my own arm this time. Even though it wasn't touching me, it felt tight and constricting.

"And will you never speak of any information relating to these tasks, unless given explicit permission by myself?" Merlin's beard, what was the boy up to if he needed a vow like that?  
But I couldn't back out now, the wires were already wrapped around our hands, joining them together already. Summoning up that Gryffindor courage, I steeled myself before nodding.

"I will." That must have been the last of Riddle's vows, because another thread from the spell bound us before sinking into our skin, feeling nothing more than a tingle. A little tingle that would kill us should we mess up.

Riddle had let go of my hand now, flexing his fingers and looking somewhat interested in the after effects of the vow. Lestrange was looking at me wearily now, obviously Tom had never said just what my secret was, and he was probably assuming the worst. Like I was a secret werewolf or something along those lines.

"How did you find out anyway?" I finally asked, because I'd been oh so painfully careful. I was desperate to know what my mistake had been.  
Riddle looked up form his hand at long last, looking somewhat amused again before he gestured for Lestrange to leave. I instantly clocked that he seemed to take his cues from Riddle, because he didn't even blink, though the obvious curiosity shone in his eyes.

When Lestrange had finally left, Riddle kept his eyes on me, and it was obvious what he wanted before I could get my answer. So with a roll of my eyes, I let my hair shorten from it's shoulder-length dark brown up into a pixie cut of bright blue. Riddle was watching with an ever so slightly awed face.

"Impressive," he finally murmured, still watching as I turned my hair back to normal, "will you allow me the courtesy of walking you back to Gryffindor tower?"  
Well I didn't have much of a response to that.

.

We walked down the corridors in what to Riddle must have been amiable silence, but for me, was just down right uncomfortable. The portraits would occasionally offer up a smile and a wave to Riddle, which he would happily return. He was on good terms with everyone. What I just didn't understand was how.  
He was nothing like I'd expected, and that made me very self-conscious. How was I suppose to deal and react with him now? And he pretty much had Lestrange like a lap-dog. Did all the other Slytherins react this way? If so, how in heavens name had we all missed it?

We came to a stop just before the portrait of the fat lady and Riddle offered me a small smile.

"It was a sneeze by the way."  
I paused, raising a brow as the perfect of Slytherin stuck his hand in his pocket and shrugged.

"On the train ride here. You sneeze in your compartment and your hair went bright red for a second."  
Oh great. Caught out my a cold. Of all the stupid things.

"Just so you know Riddle, I don't trust you." He was amused again, I could tell.

"You'd be a fool to do so. Have a nice night Miss Morgan."

"You too Riddle." He didn't look back, instead walking away, probably to the Slytherin common room. I just wanted to run up to bed and crumple on it from all the unexpected stress I'd been under today.

And for once, I did just as I wanted to.

_**Chapter 3  
**__Circus Shut Down_

_x_

Morning came far too quickly, and I was oh so very tired. Unfortunately, seeing as it was Friday, I couldn't just skip out on the day. Even if I was desperate not to run into Tom Marvolo Riddle again. Of course, I didn't even get to make it into the Great Hall before he found me. He took in my appearance, which was still the very same face I'd been wearing for years, with a light frown.  
My dorm-mates had been walking just ahead of me, and when they noticed Riddle looking in our direction as he approached, they giggled. But he didn't pay much attention to them other than his usual, perfect student greeting. Instead, his face lit up with what looked to be genuine curiosity and excitement when he saw me. Only, I knew it was all a mask now, faked to fool everyone. And I'd fallen for it, I'd never have guessed otherwise unless he'd approached me as he did. Now I was stuck helping him out with things whilst we were still at school. And I'd probably be stuck keeping his secrets forever. Which was a terrifying thought.

"Miss Morgan," he finally addressed me when he was no further away than three feet, instantly making me nervous. The three girls from my dorm; Rubie Riley, Charlotte Lavin and Augusta Longbottom, let out a startled gasp. Probably over the fact the fabulous perfect Riddle even knew my name.

"Yes Riddle?" I asked, wishing beyond reason that skirts actually had pockets so I could stick my hands in them. Instead, they were left uselessly hanging beside my legs.

"I was wondering if perchance you'd grace the Slytherin table with your lovely presence this morning?"  
A frown crossed my features before I nodded, because really, there wasn't a hell of a lot I could do. If I was going to be throwing out what I could do, I'd rather do it near the one person who wouldn't start choking on whatever they were eating. I looked back to my dorm-mates and blushed nervously, shrugging my shoulders at their looks of varying annoyance, surprise and betrayal.

"Excellent." Suddenly Riddle's arm was wrapped up in my own, dragging me across the room towards the Slytherin table. Very few people seemed to look towards Riddle as he made his way over, so used they were to seeing him with his usually entourage. And just like that, a cheeky little idea that I probably shouldn't do popped into my head and I could hardly help myself.

* * *

He watched out of the corner of his eye as the girl's skin suddenly began to bubble slightly before smoothing over. And it was like catching a look at himself in a mirror, from the corner of his eye. When he turned his head ever so slightly just to get a better look at the girl, Tom was almost amused to note that she was wearing a perfect copy of his face, and no one else had noticed yet. Of course they hadn't, he'd thrown up a few notice me not charms so he could break the news to his followers first. He watched as they trickled in, Avery, Rosier and Lestrange being some of the most noticeable, dropping into seats before him. Lestrange was the first to dare look up at him, and when he caught sight of not one Riddle, but two, he started choking on the toast in his mouth. Much to Tom's amusement, the girl kept her face as blank as his own, doing an eerily good impression of his own face and reactions. If it weren't for the Gryffindor colours on the robe that hid her figure, Tom guessed that almost everyone would be unable to tell the difference. This was good if he ever needed an alibi.

"Riddle?" Now the other two were looking up, their mouths thankfully empty as they took in the oh so strange sight before them.

"Lestrange," Tom finally returned, acting as if nothing were wrong and waiting to see what the girl would do. Surprisingly enough, she shot him a blank look before returning to Lestrange.

"Can you really not tell the difference between myself and an imposter?" She finally spoke with his own voice, raising a brow and looking so patronising that it was easy to believe she was him.

Lestrange now thrown off her trail by the words, looked back to him before finally taking in the Gryffindor robes the girl was wearing. The confused puppy dog look on his face melted away into annoyed confusion, wary eyeing Tom for an answer. And she was unable to help it any more, her face slowly morphing back into her own as chuckles escaped beneath her breath.  
Tom allowed the briefest of amused smiles to cross his lips, simply from the three pure-bloods that were suppose to be oh so high and mighty, gaping shamelessly at their new company. He would never stop appreciating the sight of the three constantly making fools of themselves.

.

* * *

As the last of my façade slipped away, I allowed a small, nervous smile to cross my lips before looking over to Riddle again, waiting for him to say something, anything at all. Maybe that'd not been such a good idea, but it'd been so long since I was able to switch faces and play a joke on someone like that. And normally, it was only my parents of my little baby cousin I could play about with.

"Gentlemen," Riddle finished began, looking at his three stooges as they looked suspiciously between both myself and Riddle, "meet Miss Valentina Morgan. Miss Morgan, Avery, Lestrange and Rosier." I chewed my lip, uncaring of whether or not that was okay pure-blood behaviour and instead focusing upon forcing a small smile onto my face.

"Hi." A rather lame introduction I admit, but after last night, I was past the point of caring I guess. Everything had come crashing down. And to think, not twenty-four hours ago I'd wanted to get closer to Tom Riddle. Now, now I couldn't get away even if I tried. All of this from a sneeze.

"You're a Metamorphmagi." Lestrange dead-panned, dark brown eyes focused on me before he let out a low laugh. "Thank Merlin, I thought you were a werewolf or something."

And from Riddle's laugh at the words, that was exactly what the dark haired teen had wanted his accomplice to think. I glared slightly at the boy from the corner of my eyes, grimacing when he only gave me that amused smile that burned my insides. And not in a nice way. Too much smug. I'd be lucky if I didn't drown in it by the end of the day. "Yes, I am," my answer finally came tumbling from my lips and I dipped my head, instead focusing upon the toast on my plate. Maybe strawberry jam today, instead of raspberry. It'd make a nice change.

"Can you turn your hair green?" One of the boys asked, I didn't bother looking at them, instead directing my gaze to Riddle gain from the corner of my eye. He caught on pretty quickly, not that I was expecting anything else though.

"Sorry Gentlemen, but I do believe that's a tad insensitive." And when I noticed their slightly confused expressions, I rolled my eyes and took another bite of toast before speaking.

"Means this circus isn't open for show." Riddle smirked before eating his own breakfast, still exceedingly refined as he dropped the notice-me-not charms he'd put up. I ignored the stares the Gryffindor girl was getting for sitting in the snake pit, trying to focus on my own food.

What in Circe's name had I gotten into?

* * *

**More hodge-podge scribbly scrawl. I think this'll be the last lot of the OC ones for a while. **

**Tsume  
xxx**


	4. The Peverell Potential

**The Peverell Potential**

_September 1st 1979_

Regulus Black shot up in the early hours of the morning, a scream dying on his lips as the burning in his left forearm subsided. He hastily ripped at the sleeve covering his arm, pulling it upwards and staring down at the black mark that stained his skin, the very mark of his slavery. Oh, he was planning on freeing himself the only way he knew how; stealing the Horcrux he was shown a week ago, and then meeting his death as the Dark Lord killed him. But it appeared that his plan would never see completion, because the magic was leaving his forearm, and the mark was no more.

**Chapter 1**

_September 1st 1979_

Heavy and hesitant foot-steps echoed out through the house of Black as it's heir came down the stairs, slowly and unsure of his current place in life. He was still staring at his unblemished forearm, completely and utterly unable to come to grips with what had happened. He could hear some harsh, quick whispers from the kitchen, no doubt his parents hastily discussing some topic of perceived importance. Brushing his wavy black hair back over his shoulders, even though it was a futile attempt because the locks still fell back into their previous place, Regulus entered the kitchen. What met him though, was most certainly a surprise. His mother was sat hunched over the table, staring at the Daily Prophet like it had personally insulted her and the House of Black overall. Her jaw was slack, her eyes wide with anger and disbelief. From her posture alone, Regulus could tell that whatever had caught her attention within the paper, she was determined to not believe it, even if all evidence said the events were true. What was perhaps the most curious thing though, was that his father was sat back with a rather large grin upon his face. He had his arms folded across his chest, another paper before him on the dinning room table and a smug smile on his face.

"I did say he was going about it the wrong way, I did say a Slytherin wouldn't have used brute force. And I was right!" The triumph in his father's voice had him pausing, trying to recall what his father was talking about. The only person that Orion Black could possibly be talking about using brute force, a Slytherin using brute force-

Regulus snatched up the paper from before his father, ignoring whatever manners had been drilled into him throughout his life.

And for once, his father completely ignored it, instead looking at his mother and letting out another victorious, "ha!"  
But Regulus was far too absorbed within the front page news. Or rather, the emergency news that seemed to take up the full paper, every page seemed to be bursting with information. But most importantly, the main story.

'_The Girl Who Vanquished?_

_The Daily Prophet is beyond over-joyed to bring you this hastily printed, emergency news. In the early hours of this very morning, a duel was taking place, right within the center of Diagon Alley. Now, this in itself is an unusual occurrence, as normally, as the participants of a duel agree to a formal platform on which to settle their dispute. However, this was no regular duel. In fact, it was very much the ultimate showdown, the likes of which the Wizarding World had not seen since the battle of Numengard, in which our very own Albus Dumbledore defeated the Dark Lord, Gellert Grindelwald. It began at four this morning, a time which saw You-Know-Who himself leading a raid turned massacre upon the alley. All around was death, and it was in this scene she appeared. A woman, young if eye witness reports are to be taken into account. She levelled her wand at the Dark Lord, and engaged him in a one to one duel.  
This was without doubt, a clash of epic proportions, two titans showing down against one another. From the sheer spell damage to the shops alone, the proof of their power is written all across Diagon Alley, from the Fiendfyre scorch marks, to the wreckage caused by a hastily dodged Bombarda. Spells were traded, brilliant flashes of colour that promised death if they so much as grazed their target.  
And then, it all came down to a final spell, the killing curse fired by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and a cheeky Expelliarmus charm fired by his opponent. The two clashed in the center, red against green, and a power struggle came about. All around, panicked citizens and Death Eaters alike stood back, watching as, after what felt like an eternity, red overpowered green, reflecting the curse back. And he fell. You-Know-Who laid dead, sprawled upon the ground as his defeater, this Girl-Who-Vanquished, stood above him, before disappearing with a crack of apperation.  
And now the Wizarding World holds its breath, waiting for it's saviour to return.  
(Photo taken from a pensive memory)_'

And the photo. There wasn't a lot to see, only a woman with black hair, stood over the crumpled body of Regulus' Ma-of his former Master. The dust and debris made it hard to pick out any physical features of the girl before she disappeared, only reappearing in the flash of green that killed the Dark Lord as the photo replayed over and over again. He didn't want to believe it, surely it was not possible. The Dark Lord had always seemed unbeatable, too strong to be defeated. He even boasted that he had taken the steps for immortality- He froze dropping the paper onto the table as both his father and mother continued their spat, one supporting the Dark Lord and the other against. The Horcrux. The Dark Lord still had his fail safe, he needed to destroy it. And quickly. Not even taking a moment to get dressed, Regulus called Kreacher to him, demanding the elf take him to the cave, right now.

* * *

It was ruined. Their were all sorts of scorch marks across the rocks, the lake completely dried up, the Inferi nothing more than a pile of corpses now, their strings cut. Kreacher had apperated him into the central piece, which was the only piece of the cave untouched. He approached the basin hesitantly, but wasn't the least bit surprised to find all the liquid that Kreacher had described gone, as was the locket. In its place, a note rested, and after sending a good few detection spells at the parchment, he carefully picked it up.

'_Hello good sir/madam,_

_If you are reading this, then congratulations, you've figured out that Voldemort had a collection of Horcruxes. If you are Voldemort yourself, doubtful, then all I have to say is I'm coming for you Tom. Do not worry -unless its you Tom, then do worry- because I know where all the Horcruxes are hidden, and how to destroy them. And once I'm done, Voldemort and I will duel. And I will win. Because this war has gone too far._

_Harriet Peverell,_'

Regulus stared at the note, the information and most specifically, the name. That had to be the girl the newspapers had been talking about, without a doubt. Harriet Peverell. He knew that name, at least, the family one. But it was suppose to be a dead name. Reaching blindly for Kreacher's hand so that he could get carted back home, Regulus re-read the note over. If anything, at least the Dark Lord's back up plan was gone now. He was truly gone now.

**Chapter 2**

_September 21st 1979_

Nearly three weeks passed between the day Regulus' dark mark faded, the death of Voldemort, and when he first ran into the Wizarding World's mysterious saviour. The papers, the news-reporters, the grateful and the greedy all searched for her, but never had she been discovered. Regulus had been slowly integrating himself back into society as the Black heir, and had learnt the mark had only faded on those no longer loyal to Voldemort. Cousin Bellatrix had gone straight to Azkaban after they found her branded and stark raving mad. Not even his father had attempted to get her out, the crushing weight of the evidence against her was far too much. Regulus wasn't exactly sad to see her go in all honesty. He mostly tried to ignore all the Death Eater trials that happened around him, ever since he'd been cornered by Potter and Moody in the middle of Diagon Alley, with them demanding to see his forearm. They'd been pretty flummoxed when they were met with pale, untainted skin. Hell, Moody had even cast every type of revealing charm known to man before he'd begrudgingly admitted he was free to go. Regulus had tried to avoid the Alley since then, but now found himself back, fetching a new book his father had on order, simply because the man currently had Kreacher gutting the house of all 'Dark-Lord' propaganda, much to his mothers fury.

He'd been stood up to the desk, patiently waiting for the shop assistant to go and fetch his book when she came up next to him. The top of her head only just passed his shoulder, long black hair pulled back into a loose pony-tail that hung down to her shoulder blades. She wasn't insanely attractive, or at least, he personally didn't think so. Her face was a somewhat pretty heart shape, with a normal nose, normal mouth and normal chin. It was her eyes, the most vibrant shade of green he'd ever seen upon a person, that caught his attention. That and the lightning bolt scar above her eyebrow.

"Waiting on Bagshot's new edition?" The girl asked with a questioning eyebrow, a small smile playing across her face as she did so. Regulus looked down at her form, taking in the books she was clutching to her chest, but was unable to get a good look at their titles.

"I am; my father pre-ordered a copy and seeing as he is running our house elf ragged, I have been recruited in to fetch it for him."  
The girl frowned at the mention of Kreacher's work-load, but managed a snort at the last of his words.

"Yourself?"  
She dropped her books onto the counter in response and Regulus got a good look at the title of the first one. '_Peverell, fantasy, fiction and fact_', was scrawled across the top, complete with the symbol for the deathly hallows taking up the rest of the cover. The girl smiled wistfully, running her finger across the symbol as she did so.

"Thought that now I have the time, I'd read up on the family history."

Shamefully, it took Regulus four seconds for the pieces to click together inside his head. He saw the ring on her right hand, the dark stone glinting in the light and showing off the very same symbol carved into it's surface. The locket that Kreacher had described, looking highly polished, as if it had just suffered a great deal of damage it was still recovering from, hanging around her neck. Peverell, family history.

"You're Harriet Peverell?" He hissed beneath his breath, watching as her head snapped up to look at him for a mere second before a timid smile crossed her face.

"I see you found one of my notes then," she murmured, running a hand through her pony-tail in a distracted fashion. What were the chances that he'd run into the slayer of the Dark-Lord in a bookshop, of all places?

"Why are you hiding?" It was the first question that came to mind, his thoughts were still spinning, trying to accept this new piece of information.

"Just want to sort out my life before I'm inadvertently dragged into the spot-light. Rather have the wards on the manor up and working to keep out the reporters before the find out who I am," she murmured half-heartedly, playing with the ring upon her finger. Harriet Peverell was stood beside him, the press' precious Girl-Who-Vanquished.

"Thank you," he murmured lowly, doing his best to ignore the way she stiffened slightly, as if his response was not what she'd expected, "for what you did."

"Someone had to do it, and I knew how. I just want to get on with my life now."  
Regulus could sympathize. He felt exactly the same way; he just wanted to put his past behind him and get on with the future. But this certainly wasn't what he'd been expecting Voldemort's defeated to be like.

"Well, if you ever need anyone to talk to, just send me an owl to 12 Grimmauld Place. Regulus Black," he murmured, holding out his hand for hers and watching as the Lady Peverell's face lit up ever so slightly, her hand slipping into his.

"Harriet Peverell."  
Pressing his lips to her knuckles, Regulus paid for the book as it was handed to him, offering the Lady Peverell a goodbye before he exited the shop, still in an befuddled daze as he made his way home.

* * *

It was close to five o'clock in the evening when an owl swooped in through the open window of the kitchen, almost knocking over Kreacher's lovingly prepared joint of lamb. His mother made a chocking noise, reaching for a weapon to bat the bird away as Orion scowled, muttering about the wards and their sudden need to be updated against the feather fiends. Regulus quickly untied the letter attached to the birds leg, flicking it out from where it'd been rolled up and staring at his name, presented in a hand he did not recognise.

"Regulus, who are you corresponding with?" Orion questioned as he calmly cut into the meat, ignoring his wild wife as she chased the bird from the kitchen. Silently, Regulus pulled the letter free, taking in the somewhat short letter.

'_Dear Regulus,_

_ I do hope you allow me to call you by your first name; I am well aware that there are many Black's running around at this moment in time, and I'd hate to feel like I was addressing someone other than the charming man I met in the book-store. I also figured that I would write to you sooner than later, seeing as you obviously know the steps that Voldemort had taken in order to ensure his immortality. Not that it helped him in the end, but regardless, it's information that should not be leaked out to anyone under any circumstances. I'm sure that you realize why, and I would be exceedingly thankful if you were to keep this little tidbit to yourself. _

_ In other news, I'm pleased to announce that the wards that have laid dormant around Peverell manor for the last seven-hundred years are now active once again, and under my command. It would please me greatly if you were to come and visit for afternoon tea; I find myself in the odd position of defeating a Dark Lord and needing a friend. If it is okay with you, I'd be very happy to welcome you to my manor via the port-key enclosed at two o'clock tomorrow._

_ Thank you for stopping and talking to me today, I'm pretty sure that when I publicly claim my heritage that anyone real will become hard to find._

_Yours,_

_ Lady Harriet Peverell_'

He didn't notice the small smile that touched at his lips, but Orion did, and raised a brow.

"I've been invited to afternoon tea tomorrow at Peverell manor."  
His mother's neck snapped around so fast to look at him it was a wonder it didn't break.

"What?" Orion also prodded him to explain, and Regulus went on to explain how he'd ran into a young woman at the book-store today, and had recognised her from the somewhat bleary photo after they'd started talking. Quite clearly, his parents were very pleased by this, if the looks they were shooting one another was anything to go by. Regulus narrowed his eyes at the two of them, carefully folding up the parchment before setting it alight, making sure that no one else would ever find the reason Voldemort had been so hard to kill.

"Mother, Father, if you will excuse me, I have to write a reply to the Lady Peverell."

**Chapter 3**

_November 27th 1979_

For the past two months, Sirius Orion Black had been living on nothing but air. The Dark Idiot was dead, his idiot followers thrown into jail. His best friend and wife were safe, everyone was safe. He had never felt happier and more hopeful with the future. It was incredible to walk down Diagon Alley without having to look over his shoulder for the Death Eater scum. And hell, if that wasn't enough, their saviour had been revealed at the start of the week. One Harriet Peverell had stepped forwards, announcing that she was very much the girl that'd taken down Voldemort. And requested to be left alone, as she'd only just come back into the country and wished to sort out her life. Hell, that was probably why she'd been hiding before hand. Not that her request would stop the most determined well wishers, and those that wished to hurt her too.

Currently, he was sat within the Leaky Cauldron, enjoying a butter-beer as he waited on both Remus and James to come and meet him. He distinctly ignored the thought that they were only three quarters full. They were no longer quartet, not after what that traitorous rat had done. From the start of this month, the Marauders had been a trio. End of story. Just Moony, Padfoot and Prongs. That was it. His eyes drifted to the door which was currently opening to allow someone through, half-heartedly wondering if Prongs or Moony were going to be ten minutes early to their meeting. Instead, he was surprised to see the well-groomed form of his brother step through. Which was odd, because the Blacks were above using the muggle entrance, hell, they were above going into the muggle world. Regulus shouldn't have been using that entrance. It only took another few seconds to discover why.

For with one arm looped around the limb his brother had angled towards her, was a raven haired woman that could be no older than eighteen. Her hair fell loose around her face, framing the bright green eyes he'd seen only in Lily before. He was ashamed to say it took him a second to realize just who the girl was, but when it came to him, Sirius Black gaped in shock. Harriet Girl-Who-Vanquished Peverell was happily conversing with his 'thought to be but proven wrong', Death Eater brother. He'd been mildly surprised to learn his brother hadn't taken the mark -and just a bit relieved- but he was still pretty sure that Regulus had supported the Dark Lord's ideals. So what the hell was he doing with the man's vanquisher?!

"Oh, Sirius, it's a surprise to see you here." Apparently, whilst he'd been in a daze, staring slack jawed at the two, they'd made their way over. Harriet Peverell was nothing like he'd expected, instead of boastful and proud, she seemed pretty laid-back and carefree.

"Regulus," he murmured, trying to keep the strain from his voice before looking questioningly to his little brother's company. She was quite the sight, he had to admit, the longer he looked at her. Her eyes were brighter than Lily's, shade more towards the Avada Kedavra green, which was just worrying to look at.

"Brother-"a title Regulus hadn't addressed him with for years, "-this Harriet Peverell. We met in a book-store before she announced herself to the public." Ah, that explained the ease of their association. Regulus had known her before her title, if only just.

"Sirius Black, the devilishly handsome, disowned son."

"And yet still the charmer," Harriet mused, accepting his hand and allowing him to press his lips to her knuckles. Regulus' smile was just a tad this side of bitter-sweet, one arm still held ever so slightly outwards from his body for Harriet to hold onto.

"I don't suppose you'll want to come to one of the 'Horrar he's dead!' parties on Saturday?" Sirius knew he was pushing his luck, especially when he saw his younger brother stiffen. But he had to try at the very least. And from the smile on her face, Harriet clearly knew it too.

"Sorry, but I'm afraid I have a date planned on Saturday."

"You do?"

Oh? Had Sirius been wrong? If the confusion and slight frown of his brother's face was anything to go by, maybe he'd read the situation wrong.

Harriet's gaze flickered over to Regulus for a second before realization crossed her face and she nervously rubbed at the back of her head with her free hand.

"Oh, erm, yeah... I have tickets for the next Magpie's match and I was hoping you'd go with me."

Ah, she just hadn't asked him yet. How strange, Sirius could could the number of times a girl had asked a Black out on one hand; all the others waited for the Black's to come to them.

His younger brother blinked and the lightest of blushes dusted his face before he offered Sirius a nod.

"I'll see you around brother." And then he led her away.

"Who was that?" Moony seemed to appear out of nowhere and Sirius sighed.

"There goes the unobtainable girl," he said with a joking wishful sigh, "if only we'd met sooner."

* * *

**Some FemHarryxRegulus that I never finished. **

**Tsume  
xxx**


	5. It Started With a Snake

**It Started With a Snake  
**

Like every Slytherin in his year, Regulus Black paid attention to every single person within not only his class, but his house. The only handful he never bothered with, were the half-bloods that dirtied the noble house of Slytherin. And it wasn't up until fourth year that he, along with every other person within Hogwarts, suddenly took notice of the loner girl of his year.

**Chapter 1**

There was never any doubt that if something was going to go wrong within Hogwarts, it would happen within a Defence Against the Dark Arts class. It was an almost certainty, holding a hefty eighty percent of all class accidents. Aside from, of course, Potions, but in all honesty, those lessons really didn't count towards that statistic. Because they were near fire in that lesson, so Regulus Black always discounted Professor Slughorn's lesson. Only this time, what went wrong wasn't necessarily bad.

Well, at least, not for the Slytherins.

Every other house would probably assume that the end was neigh, that the devil reborn was walking the halls wearing the mask of a child. But the Black heir didn't see it like that, nor did any other person of the snake house.

It'd started out as a regular duelling session, two Slytherins against one another. The first and for Regulus, most important, one was Bartemius Crouch Jr, known to most as 'Barty'. He was a skilled duellist, one of the best of Slytherin house. Which was why, in all honesty, his opponent stood little chance.

Regulus couldn't find it in his heart to be sorry for the girl, one Octavia Orbell, half-blood. It was her kind that ruined everything Slytherin stood for, ruined all the noble blood that they housed. Barty seemed to agree, because he was making the girl sweat for it. All around, she wasn't too bad a duellist, certainly intelligent. But she lacked the ruthlessness that Barty was unhesitatingly throwing at her.

It was beginning to grow boring now, and Regulus shifted from foot to foot, impatience to have his turn. Mainly because he'd drawn a Hufflepuff in the pairing and he was going to thoroughly thrash them. Barty gave an elegant twirl of his wand, whispering the words for the snake summoning spell as he did so. It was a long, black streak that flew from the tip of the boy's wand, a snake making a rather clumsy landing upon the platform. Their defence teacher began making his way forwards, hand already upon his wand. Regulus could understand his reaction if he recognised the breed.

A black mamba.

He'd always had a fascination with snakes since being placed within the snake pit, and he could easily recognise the breed. One of the fastest, biggest and certainly, one of the most venomous breeds around. If he didn't know the boy and his playful nature, then Regulus may have guessed that Barty was actually trying to see the girl's death with the snake he'd summoned.

The fierce looking reptile rose upwards, head reaching a meter high as it stared down the girl, who appeared to have dropped her wand in shock as the gorgeous black specimen began hissing at her, hood flared. Professor Wells had pushed his way through the crowd, and Regulus was holding his breath, not entirely sure that the man would get a clear shot at Barty's creation before it bit the girl.

And then, the world stopped, because the girl, with her hands raised palm forwards in the air, hissed back. Golden brown hair stuck to her forehead with sweat and simple dark eyes slightly narrowed as she focused upon the snake before her, she continued hissing, intimidating the sounds that'd once come from the snake, slowly taking a handful of steps forwards before she was stood directly in front of the still raised black mamba.

And then the snake struck forwards and everyone, including himself he was shamed to admit, let out a horrified gasp. But there was no biting, no scream of agony.

Only a snake wrapping its way up the girl's arm before coming to rest upon her shoulder, tongue flickering in an almost loving manner against her cheek.

Orbell smiled slightly in a tried fashion, running a finger down the scaly head before seeming to realize she was still present in the room. She looked between them all, eyes widening with shock when she took in their reactions, focusing upon Barty across from her.

Regulus followed her gaze too, because he couldn't even process just what he was seeing, and perhaps focusing on Barty would give the information time to sink in. His pure-blood friend was stood with his mouth hanging open, eyes wide and wand on the floor from where it'd dropped out of his hand. He didn't seem able to form any kind of coherent words, barely even blinking back at the girl that was now stood oh so very nervously upon the platform.

"Class dismissed!"

Regulus' head swung back around to look in the direction of the voice, and found Professor Wells dragging Orbell along by the arm, watching the snake wrapped around her upper body with caution in his eyes. He was out the door before Regulus could even begin to comprehend what had happened.

Though a Hufflepuff girl managed to sum up her entire house with a scream and a faint.

.

It wasn't until dinner that Regulus saw the girl again. He was the first to arrive at his table, as usual. Already the rumours had run wild around the school, terror following every whispered word.

Regulus had paid a measly amount of attention to his fellow house-mates over the years, but one thing he did know was their parental status. In fact, he was probably the only Slytherin, perhaps the only student in the school, to know that Octavia Orbell did not know her father. Had never known her father.

And Regulus could only think of one possible candidate now.

A revelation that'd had his hands shaking upon his lap before he'd managed to forcibly calm the urge.

Orbell was sat in her usual seat, right at the top of the bench, right before the staff table. Only now, every set of eyes were upon her. Or more importantly, the huge black snake still wrapped around her body. It was only Professor Dumbledore that looked completely at ease, blue eyes twinkling as he raised his glass in the girl's direction, offering up a calm toast to the girl. She nervously returned the gesture, focusing more upon her food.  
Though every so often, her fingers would run across the head of her serpent companion. No one form the other houses had turned up yet, probably still getting all the gossip they could, so Regulus quickly made his way forwards. He needed answered to what the hell had happened three hours ago, and he was determined to get it.

Suddenly, the girl wasn't just 'the half-blood loner'. She had a gift most pure-bloods would kill for, even if it did reside in her dirty blood. He could put up with being in her presence for answers. He was marginally uncomfortable when he sat down and realized the girl was hissing under her breath to the snake. Nevertheless, he pressed forwards.

"Miss Orbell?" Her head snapped up, dark eyes wide as she took in his undoubtedly pristine appearance. She was clearly fresh out of wherever she'd been dragged too, because her hair was a mess and clothes still rumpled from the duel she'd taken part in.

"Erm, hi there-" she suddenly cut off, turning to the snake that'd now half slithered across the table towards him. A short, sharp hiss and the reptile took another look at him before backing off, returning to her shoulders, it's main body still wrapped beneath her shirt, no doubt around her torso.

"Sorry, Salis thought you were a threat."  
Oh, that was good to know; he didn't need to die of a snake bite, Sirius the not-brother would kill himself laughing.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, how long have you known you were a Parselmouth?" There was no point trying to skirt around the question, the sooner he got an answer, the sooner he could be rid of her presence.

"Three hours," she replied in a dry tone, sitting back in her seat, plate empty. So she'd had no idea at all then?

Well, that was interesting.

* * *

**I lied, I found another OC story that I wanted to throw up in the air. **

**Tsume  
xxx**


	6. Friends With The Monster

**Friends With The Monster  
**_That's under my bed_

**Part 1.1  
17th July 1943**

Where was it? It'd been but mere minutes since he'd claimed the ring from his mad uncle, and yet Tom Marvolo Riddle had already encountered a problem. Because the stone was gone.

Staring down at the missing black stone, the stone that Morfin Gaunt had been so focused upon, that he'd known to be passed down through their family for generations, was gone. All that remained was the small gold band that it'd been set into. Empty of the stone that'd once sat there. Tom knew the stone was worthless, it was not a precious stone and he'd never had been able to sell it. But his family had held on to it for a reason. And unless he found that stone again, he'd never know why.

The meeting with his father could wait for a few moments whilst he traced his steps back.

.

Meanwhile, in a well fortified castle, hidden deep within the depths of Bulgaria, a man barely worth mentioned screamed as pain tore through his body. Stood above him, a man sneered, half curled blond hair falling around his sharply angled face.

"Where is it?" He hissed, pointing the crooked wand in his hand at the man below him, who began to withered back and forth as more screamed escaped his raw throat.

For all the power behind the torture curse, it was to be of note, that the man stood casually looking down at his victim did not seem comfortable with his instrument of torture. It seemed almost, that he was unfamiliar with the wood in his hand, as if it were not his first choice. And it wasn't.

Gellert Grindelwald was using his wand, the first wand he'd ever gotten. Which, as only those closest to him knew, was not his first choice.

For upon his waking from sleep that very morning, he found the wand he favoured to have been stolen. Regardless of any and every spell he used to try and track it down, to try and locate the thief so that he may destroy him in any and every way possible, no results came to him. Which saw him in his current position.

Interrogating each and every person who'd been within the vicinity of his castle for the last twenty four hours. No one was missing, no one was claiming to have seen a thief, and yet, no one was confessing.

"One last time," he spat, staring down into the eyes of his current prisoner, almost snarling as he did so.

.

"Where is it?"

From where he was sat upon his bed, George Potter was staring at the empty trunk before him. An empty trunk which should most certainly not be empty. It only ever contained one thing whenever he was at home for the holidays, one thing only. An item of which he'd inherited from his father, who'd gotten it from his father, who'd gotten it from his father. The list went on and on, all the way back to whatever ancestor had come across it. It was the only cloak known to the Potter family to not have stopped working with age, and for that, it was considered not only a family heirloom, but the greatest priceless treasure they had.

And yet, here it was.

Or rather, wasn't.

Gone.

Nowhere in sight from where he'd last left it.

He'd already sent the elves out looking for it in a panic, but that did him no good, for not one of them said they'd found it after an hour of searching. And being one of the only few to not underestimate House Elf magic, George knew they'd done all that they could. He'd even checked the Potter Manor wards, but nothing showed up. No one other than his parents, and of course, himself, had been in the house for days. He knew it should be there, he'd seen it but two days ago. So the only thing left to do was to check if his father had taken it for some reason or another.

Swallowing his pride and praying to god that his father would confirm his last hope, George Potter set off downstairs.

.

It was in the teachers conference room when it happened. Professor Dumbledore, deputy head-master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was the first to notice the shift in the atmosphere, how the woman on his right suddenly stilled. He need not look to already guess what was happening.

Professor Cassandra Vablatsky, whom had previously been scrawling notes to add to her upcoming book, instead of paying any attention to what the head-master had been saying, would now be stock still. Her eyes would be bright, wide and her hand quite possibly trembling. All Dumbledore had to do was look at her from the corner of his eye, and he knew it was right.

Their famed professor was having a vision.

What was perhaps disturbing, was the fact she appeared to have little to no control over it. As a celebrated seer, Cassandra was well known for her ability to keep her head whilst she prophesied, so whatever she was seeing, had to be powerful. And important.

By this point, every other staff member had paused, turning to look at the woman in question.

And then, in a voice filled with the echo of others, she spoke.

"_Stick, stone and cloak in hand, she descends from tomorrow into our lands. Out of place, out of time, hissing tongue as changes chime. Armies band together here and after, to protect themselves, from Death's master._"

Albus Dumbledore's blood ran cold.

As every other professor dived forward to catch their unconscious seer, the transfiguration professor sat back in his chair, staring ahead and solely wishing that the conclusion he'd come to already was not the right one. But what else could it possibly be?

A stick, stone and cloak; possible coincidence. And it probably could have passed for one, he wouldn't have had to pay too much attention to it. If not for those last two words.

Death's master.

There was no other way to look at it. The prophecy had been about the Deathly Hallows.

And Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore felt scared for the first time in a long while.

**1st August 1944**

It was the summer of his soon to be seventh year that Harriet Lyra Potter came crashing into Tom Marvolo Riddle's life. Quite literally.

As an orphan now above the age of sixteen, Tom had been allowed, like the previous summer, to go off and wonder around London on his own. It wasn't that he had some form of trust from the matron of his orphanage, Mrs Cole. No, it was more of the fact that when Tom left the orphanage, there was a collective sigh of relief for the day. He still had all of the children terrified, and Mrs Cole seemed to relish in the fact that all the orphans were better all around whenever his presence was not under her roof.

And so, it was on a steadily warming Monday morning that Tom Riddle had found himself making his way towards the Leaky Cauldron. There was still the scars of the waging muggle war scattered around him; a crater in the streets here, a blown up building there. It was almost sickening how ugly the muggle world was turning; not that it'd been a sight better before the war. But now, it was almost painful to look at, now that he knew what world would soon lay beneath his feet.

If only it weren't for Dumbledore, he would still be within his rightful place, his rightful world, right now. The old fool had insisted that the school not house anyone over summer, as, while the heir to Slytherin had officially been caught, Dumbledore knew that the creature blamed could not have petrified the students. It burned Tom inside, but he had to give the man a slither of credit; he knew that Tom was planning something. Even if he couldn't pin him down what so ever. And as annoying as it was, Tom respected power.

It didn't mean he had to like it.

.

He was turning onto the second to last street on his route when it happened.

He was blind-sided by the painfully ugly fruit stall upon the corner, so there had been no way for him to see, let alone prepare, for the bundle of flesh that slammed into his form and sent him crashing to the floor. Already, his hand had been upon his wand, curled around the yew wood as he looked up to snarl at the common muggle that had dared to run into a wizard. And he froze as he did so.

Green eyes, bespeckled ever so slightly by a slightly darker emerald shade, stared back at him from behind a set of round spectacles. They blinked, thick lashes brushing against the slightly tanned skin of her cheeks -for there was no male he knew of that had eyes like that- before they suddenly shrunk before him as the girl reared back. Her hair, black even in the sunlight, was pulled up into a messy bun that lay limp at the base of her neck, creating a rushed and somewhat almost stressed appearance, a few loose locks framing her face.

It wasn't the most beautiful face Tom have ever seen, nor was it the ugliest. Everything was pretty ordinary, other than two noticeable features. The killing curse green eyes, and then the scar. A lightning bolt scar upon her forehead, ever so slightly off centre that looked like a fresh wound, even if the slightly puckered skin around it showed it'd been years since it'd been inflicted.

"Sorry, I'm a bit lost, not used to the streets yet," the girl had stood up now, and was holding out her hand to help him up. Though he didn't miss the fact that the girl's other hand was deep in her skirt pocket, wrapped around something. And from the outline against the pleated skirt, Tom was pretty sure she was holding onto a wand. Much like he himself.

Odd that she'd had the same reaction as what he himself had.

"My apologies, am I to assume you were searching for the Leaky Cauldron?" Ah.

Her eyes narrowed instantly before the green orbs followed after his limb, the one clenched in his pocket around his wand before a flash of recognition passed over her face. But other than that, she said nothing.

"Yes," the young woman murmured slowly, suspicion still evident on her face as she watched him stand without taking her offered hand.

"I don't believe I've seen you at Hogwarts before," Tom finally murmured, offering his arm in the typical escorting way. Slytherin pure-bloods, once he'd gotten them under thumb, had been a great source of knowledge regarding the wizarding world, especially in regards to the correct mannerisms.

Hesitancy washed over the girl's face for a mere seconds before she reached out and took his arm, bravery written on her face. So she didn't like physical contact, but didn't like to show that fact either. Not entirely uncommon within women of their time-period, even if it was improving from the past.

Now, was the girl a half-blood or a pure-blood? There was no way she was muggle-born, that scar upon her forehead was most certainly cursed, and from the look of it, she'd had it since childhood. No muggle-born would have a cursed scar.

"I've been chasing down a few important items the past year, missed my seventh because of it," the girl smirked in a weary fashion, as if it was an almost bitter-sweet memory and Tom was instantly entranced in the conversation. What could she possibly have been tracking? "-but before that I didn't attend this fine school here in England. My own is gone now."

Tom was just leading the girl into the Leaky Cauldron now, weaving effortlessly through the small crowd inside and around towards the back entrance to the wizarding world.

"And pray tell," he asked, tapping at the bricks with his own yew wand and watching the girl from the corner of his eyes as she memorized the pattern, "what could possibly be so important you had to miss your seventh year?"

The girl, who had to be a year above him in schooling, but on his same level, smirked slightly, stepping towards the alley entrance as if to run away from him and his questions. He made her uncomfortable obviously, but he needed answers.

Reaching out and catching her left hand, Tom brought it to his lips and pressed them against the flesh of her knuckles before something else caught his eye. Scratched across the back of her hand, as if written perfectly into the skin -but that was impossible because skin didn't cut that smoothly- were the words 'I must not tell lies'.

Eye's flying up to look at the girl, Tom raised a questioning eyebrow before he released her hand and stood upright, now able to see over her head and into the alley.

"I was out hunting some items, I think I already said that once."

"Yes, but what items?"

The girl's jaw tightened, and she looked him right in the eye, as if weighing up the advantages of telling him. Now, he could have used Legilimency, but he'd had precious little to play with since he'd gotten all of the school under his thumb, practically stashed in his back-pocket. And the girl was new, she could provide a challenge perhaps. For maybe a week.

Something flashed through the girl's eye, some form of fire that had him knowing instantly that he was going to be interested in what she said. He just wasn't expecting the words to wind him in such a way.

"If you must know," she murmured, voice low as she stepped closer to make sure she wasn't overheard, "I was hunting down, and destroying some bastard's Horcruxes."

And then she was gone in the crowd.

He'd only frozen for a split second, the smallest amount of time that had him digest that information, but she'd used it to escape.

And he'd never even gotten her name.

.

He'd walked home in a state of shock, brain whirling and barely paying any attention what so ever to anything that was happening around him, instead his brain was whirling.

The girl had played him, come right out of left field and all but punched through his perfect little plan. No one else was suppose to even know what a Horcrux was, especially someone so close to his age group. And yet, she stated she'd been going around and destroying someone's for the past year.

It wasn't a bluff, because the girl would first have to know about Horcruxes, never-mind the fact he himself had two already. If she'd told anyone else that information, it'd have meant nothing to them; sure they'd try to research it, but Tom had covered his tracks at Hogwarts; there would be no help there.

Was it pure coincidence that it'd been him to run into the girl?

No, it was too close for comfort.

He didn't like it, not at all.

In fact, it was downright terrifying.

Tom hadn't felt this threatened before, not even when Dumbledore was on the trail for the Chamber.

The girl was a problem, because if she'd destroyed someone else's Horcruxes, then she could without a doubt go after his, should she ever learn of their existence.

And he couldn't allow that.

He hadn't even gotten her name, but that didn't matter. She'd said she was going to Hogwarts for her seventh year.

Which meant he had a year to get the threat under control. He was just thankful the threat was female; they had a tendency to bend easier than males.

One year to get everything under control.

One year.

**Part 2.1  
1st September 1944**

He didn't see the girl again till the night of the sorting. Head boy badge pinned neatly to his robes, Tom was sat at the top-most end of the Slytherin table, as far away as he could get from Dumbledore and his prying eyes.

But he wasn't far enough away to miss the much too tall girl stood before all the first years, waiting to be sorted. She was rocking back and fourth upon her heels, messy black hair pulled up into a ponytail that fell between her shoulder blades. Tom didn't even need to see her face to know it was the Horcrux girl, so he quickly elbowed Lestrange, gathering the dark haired boy's attention.

"The girl, that's the one I sent you a letter about with those... Concerns."

Lestrange, one of the only two people that knew about Tom's Horcruxes, instantly snapped to attention and began observing the girl. Just in time for Dumbledore to call out, 'Harriet Lyra Potter,' as he was sorting through the first years.

Tom watched and waiting for one of the small girls to step up, but instead, Horcrux girl answered the call, bounding up the two steps to the chair before spinning and dropping into it. The girl had a lot of energy, that much was evident, as the killing curse green eyes looked up at the leather bound hat that was placed upon her head.

Beside him, Lestrange had raised a brow, paying a rather unusually amount of attention himself. Harriet Lyra Potter was not excessively beautiful, nor was she curvaceous. In fact, she looked like a girl who'd only just started getting a good few meals in her, like she hadn't had access to much food before. If she'd been hunting down Horcruxes like she said, then it was entirely possible that she hadn't been able to stop an eat. Especially if she'd been chased while she was doing it.

Questions still rang in his ears though; who created those Horcruxes? How did the girl not only know what they were, but know how to destroy them? And why did she see fit to drop that information on a seemingly random stranger? Was it a planned move from Dumbledore? No, the man's face didn't show any recognition beyond what had to be a first encounter, in which the girl had to have transferred into the school.

However, one thing that was showing recognition was the sorting hat. It's seam, the one that usually opened to speak a house name, was twisted slightly in annoyance.

Below the wide brim of the hat, Harriet was also sat scowling, almost as if she were in the process of an argument before the hat finally called for 'Slytherin!'.

What was even odder, was that the girl didn't seem impressed; clearly that wasn't the option she'd been fighting for. Never the less, she stood and made her way over to the table, dropping onto the end. Tom wished he'd sat further down now, however this did give him a chance to approach the girl. After all, he was head boy, and she was the transfer student.

Yes, that'd do nicely.

.

Approaching Harriet Lyra Potter with Lestrange and Avery by his side, Tom coughed ever so lightly to gather the girl's attention. All the other students were getting to the feet and leaving, only a few first year girls sending Tom's handsome face shocked looks. Whilst Harriet did not stand, only twisted her neck slightly as she leaned back to get a good look at the three of them.

"Hi, my name's Harriet, but most people just call me Harry."  
How ghastly, she preferred to be called by a boy's name. What kind of a girl was this? And not only that, but she showed no recognition in her eyes as she looked at Tom. He'd been obsessing, quite violently, over the girl and her words for a full month, and she had the gall to forget him?

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," he offered up a hand as he spoke, "I believe we ran into each other a month ago, outside the Leaky Cauldron?"

There was the recognition, but it wasn't just from the encounter, it was almost hostile. But that didn't stop the black haired girl from reaching out and taking his hand.

However, before he could bring it to his lips, as would be the norm, she shook it quite violently before dropping his hand.

"So, Potter... Any relation to Charlus? Graduated a few years back? He's got a little brother in Gryffindor?"

"Yeah, a little," Harriet murmured in response to Lestrange, beaming slightly before she stood, dusting down her pleated grey skirt as she did so.

In a moment of after thought, she reached down for a bag that had rested at the foot of the bench, throwing it over one shoulder and tapping the small, purse like compartment that rested upon her hip. Tom frowned, curious, and Harriet just looked up at him and grinned.

"It's got my entire life in," she murmured with a shrug, adjusting the strap till the bag was tightly pressed against her hip, "quickly learnt to not take it off." She rubbed faintly at her forearm, the sleeves of her robes rolled up to show the skin beneath. And Tom noticed the most curious scar, an almost perfectly round patch of white skin.

"My, that is quite the scar." Apparently, Lestrange had noticed too, dark eyes focused on the spot. Harriet raised an amused eyebrow before adjusting the sleeve so it covered the exposed flesh again.

"Yeah, got it when I fought a basilisk. Venom stung like a bitch, but you know, phoenix tears and all that." And the girl disappeared to go an introduce herself to some of the other Slytherin girls, leaving the three of them stood their in shock and disbelief.

"She's joking, she's got to be." Avery murmured, looking to Tom.

But Tom wasn't so easy to dismiss the girl's words; she knew about Horcruxes and had apparently been hunting some down; was it so stretched to think that perhaps she had fought a basilisk?

And he knew the puncture wound looked to be the same width as a basilisk fang, he of all people should know that.

* * *

**Some unfinished FemHarryxTom. Someday I might come back and complete these stories, but today is not that day.**

**Tsume  
xxx**


	7. Untouchable

**Untouchable**

He was only a prisoner of the Dark-Lord, pain rushing through his veins as curse after curse hit his broken body. He hung from the wall, shallow whimpers escaping his lips. Screaming was no longer possible. The metal that was around his wrists, holding him tightly in place, clanked against the stone dungeon wall behind him, his limbs shaking with effort. He didn't want to die. He didn't. But there was no way that he would get out of here. He had betrayed the Dark-Lord that now stood before him, and he was going to pay for it. With his life. There was little he could focus on now, other than the fact his death would be dragged out, his suffering prolonged till he could no longer beg even for death. They planned to drive him out of his mind before they drove him from his body. He was only just sane enough to realize the sudden halt in all of the attacks.

Looking up weakly through his fringe, the man squinted into the light coming from the door, taking in the small figure that was present. His breath caught in his throat.

Oh god, they had a child here.

Yet, his expectations were not met, that being the brutal death of the child. No Death-Eaters got so far as to throw a curse at the small, green eyed boy, who could be no older than four years old.

For the Dark-Lord had already lowered his wand and stepped before the boy.

"Ignotus."  
The prisoner -along with several Death-Eaters- chocked at the sound of the Dark-Lord's voice. It was no longer the cruel, cold tone. Instead, it was almost, almost soft. Even if anyone else were to copy it would still sound cold. For a being so heart-less, it was easy to tell when he suddenly took what could almost be considered care with his tone.

The young boy, Ignotus, looked up at the Dark-Lord, chewing on one thumb nail as he looked up at the most feared wizard in the land. He was the spitting image of the Dark Lord, there was no doubt about it, and the man's followers seemed to come to the same conclusion he himself had. But there was just no way, surely this man could not, would not have a son?

"I had a nightmare," the boy whispered, looking ashamed and refusing to meet the Dark Lord's eyes. The serpent tongue didn't even look back at his prisoner now, instead sweeping the small boy up into his arms and resting him upon his hip.

"I shall leave him in your trustworthy hands. Obliviate." Death-Eater memories of the child gone, and without a backwards glance at the man he'd condemned to death, the Dark-Lord glided from the room.

The prisoner only just managed to catch a glimpse of the man soothing Ignotus before his eyes were filled with a flash of green light.

**Part 1-1**

Ignotus Heredis Riddle, once known as Harry James Potter, could safely say that he'd had the oddest upbringing that he'd ever heard of. That didn't mean he didn't like it, in fact, he loved everything about his world now. He could barely even remember the awful parents he'd had before he'd run away.

It was just a distant memory that laid in wait, stored away in the back of his mind. Something he could use to draw his hate from. It was the only thing he could draw such a strong emotion from, because every other memory he had was of his new life, and there was nothing that could make him hate in that.

Sure, Lord Voldemort pushed him hard, but never more than what Ignotus could take. He'd learnt exactly where his limits were with training, and he had steadily improved as a result. Upon his fifth birthday, the real training had begun.

Lord Voldemort, followed by his Death Eaters, pretty much dropped off the face of the earth at that point.

The war came to an abrupt halt, though not because of the Light side winning. No, it was more to do with the sudden, distinct lack of enemies.

The idiots couldn't understand what had happened.

For twelve years, they had held their breath, waiting for the Dark-Lord's next strike, but it had never come. So, upon the tenth year of tentative peace, a newspaper had printed that perhaps, Lord Voldemort had died during one of his own dark rituals.

Needless to say, that building was burnt down with the dark mark floating in the sky the very next day.

No, Lord Voldemort had not gone away, he hadn't been defeated, and neither had he turned his back on the dark arts. No, instead he was focusing upon his Death-Eaters, training them, sending them around the world to do research on all things magical. Because he was determined to know everything that could help him win this war.

The fact that he'd had enough time to easily train Ignotus, well, he was sure that was just a little side effect.

.

Smiling slightly at the thought, Ignotus turned back to the mirror before him, twisting his head from side to side, inspecting his hair. It fell in crisp black waves; his father said he looked eerily similar to what he himself had done in his childhood. Eerily similar to Tom. Ignotus expected nothing less.

Ever since the two of them had taken the blood adoption potion, there was no way to say they weren't related by looking at them. Harry Potter's face was long gone.

Now, Ignotus was the spitting image of a long since grown up Tom Riddle, all but his eyes. A pale green, as if solid silver had been marred with the lightest of grass stains. They were a striking colour, so pale against his dark hair. Not quite the grey of Voldemort's own, but a a sharp, metallic tinted green. They went well with his dark green robes.

He was excited for the start of the day, because it was finally his seventeenth birthday.

Lord Voldemort, the man who'd taken him in, allowed Ignotus to call him father, had finally declared him ready. His magic was top notch, he would easily pass NEWT's for any and every subject. He was rushing ahead in everything he could think of, he had projects for Ancient ruins, along with ritual magic and the dark-arts, all over his room. He'd been spending a good month composing a list of spells he wanted to create. And now, now father said he was ready to present him before the Death-Eaters, and formally mark him as his. He rubbed absent-mindedly at the lightning bolt shaped scar upon his forehead.

They would be holding a meeting at Malfoy manor, in the largest room so that his father could lord over the lot of them like a king. Only this time, whomever sat upon his father's right hand side would be kicked out of his chair.

Because it belonged to Ignotus now.

"_Child. Massster demandsss your presssence._" Nagini, his father's most treasured companion, slithered into the room, her long, glimmering body covering the distance to him in seconds.

Beside her, Wispy, their house-elf, stood with one arm outstretched, clearly waiting to apperate him down to the ballroom where the meeting would take place. He was quite capable physically of doing it himself, but he'd never seen the room, and as such, had no way of picturing the place in his mind.

Placing his freshly seventeen year old hand within Wispy's worn fingers, Ignotus felt the tell tale tugging before he was whisked away.

* * *

"Not that seat."

Lucius Malfoy froze in place, hand hovering over the very seat he'd just been about to claim. For all of the meeting this year, he had sat on that seat on his Lord's right hand side. He was trusted, one of the very best, even of the Inner Circle. So why was it that he had lost his seat now?

To his knowledge, he'd done nothing wrong, and not one of the other Death-Eaters had done anything that could have out-shown him without him hearing about it. Hell, it was he who had gotten a Minstery Port-key to take them to Azkaban!

However, none of this showed on the blond's face. Instead, he graciously nodded and took the seat next to that one. All the other Death-Eaters filled in, and it was only Bellatrix and Barty that attempted to sit in the same seat. And the Dark-Lord repeated the same message in the same tone, not taking his eyes off the small leather bound journal before him. Lucius knew the man wrote a journal for everything that happened in regards to their activities, otherwise he'd never have been able to keep track of the tally between the Dark and Light side.

Many of the Death-Eaters were getting restless, they wanted a more open movement like that of years ago. And judging by the people present -which was everyone- there was going to be an announcement.

A big one.

"My loyal followers. You have all been patience, so very patience. I know these past few years have not been easy, but all of our hard work, it will certainly pay off. Now, for the reason I have called you here tonight. One, our attacks will once again begin."  
There was a low murmuring as the Dark-Lord paused in his speech, allowing them to look between one another in excitement.

"And our opening number shall be large. First though, I have a new member joining my inner circle."

Ah, so this was the reason as to why the seat was to be left alone. The last time someone had joined the Inner Circle, it'd been Barty Crouch Jr. And that had been for a spectacular delivery of not only a folder full of Minstery information, but a full role-call of every single member of the Order of the Phoenix. No, that wasn't quite true.

There was that one boy that'd appeared four years ago, one that the Dark-Lord had referred to as 'Tom'. Though they'd not seen him since, only told he was working on some huge project.

Regardless, Barty had been honoured with the seat for two and a half years, up until the point Bellatrix had thrown him out with her impressive dealings of the torture curse and the Longbottoms. Oh, they were always jockeying for that seat, the seat that claimed them to be the Dark Lord's current favourite. And why wouldn't they want it?

That seat had never had a Cruciatus curse thrown at it. Even if it didn't mean the Dark Lord favoured them, the seat was highly desirable for that reputation alone.

.

Their master was now looking to his right, and a body slid gracefully into the empty seat, accompanied by Bellatrix's shocked outrage. Lucius couldn't blame her. The boy could be no older than his own son, with crispy presented black hair and beryl eyes scanning the table, the eerily light colour dancing with amusement at their reactions.

"He's just a worthless brat!" One of the lower Death-Eaters shouted out from beyond the main table, rage and jealously audible in his voice. The nerve of the child, some little upstart, making his way into the Inner Circle with such ease. He certainly didn't go to Hogwarts, he knew every child on role there, either through his job on the Board of Governors, or through Draco's ranting. And nothing about him screamed foreign, so where had the brat come from?  
This all raced through his head for a second before his eyes landed on the Dark-Lord. Lucius had never seen such fury on the man's face, but he recognised the gentle hold of the yew wand. Without a doubt, one of the Dark Lord's favoured Parseltongue curses would be launched in the idiot's direction.

Or at least, it would have been, had the boy in question not laughed. It was a cold sound, and just a bit higher than what Lucius would have expected.

Something in his stomach sunk because sweet Salazar did he recognise that sound but his brain did not want to process it, didn't want to register that information in anyway. Because if it was similar, that meant the boy had to have spent enough time around the source to pick it up.

Sure there were hours, sometimes even days, between when they saw the Dark-Lord, but he couldn't have, surely not have been personally training someone?

"May we focus on the task at hand? I don't believe cannon fodder should be given your personal attention," the boy paused at the end of his remark, smirking in the so called 'cannon fodder's' direction before his lips formed the word, "father."

The only one who seemed to process the word was Bellatrix, whom snorted the red wine she'd been sipping out of her nose in shock. Lucius' head spun as he made a double take of the calm child sitting next to him, taking in every feature that he could. There was no way, it couldn't, the Dark Lord wouldn't-

"I suppose you are correct as always Ignotus," his Lord drawled, lowering his wand before turning back to his Inner Circle.

It was around the time Bellatrix was finished hacking up the rest of her wine three seconds later that the news finally processed in everyone else's head.

Every single Death-Eater not sat upon the inner table shrunk back in fear, whilst those seated took all sorts of reaction. Barty -who saw the Dark Lord as his own fatherly figure- was no doubt bubbling with rage, and the two Lestrange males were staring at the boy with badly hidden shock. Severus had his mask of indifference in tatters, looking like he'd just swallowed a sour lemon whole and it was now stuck in his throat.

In fact, the only one's with some dignity left were the boy, Ignotus, and the Dark Lord himself, both of whom looked only somewhat amused at their reactions.

With a flick of his wand, which Lucius managed to register looked somewhat like holly wood, a stack of paper began making it's way down the table, handing out leaflets to every one of those sat up to table, and then onwards the rest of them. Lucius held his paper somewhat gingerly, pushing the boy who called the Dark Lord father to the back of his mind, to be dealt with later.

Instead, he focused upon the information on the sheet, and almost dropped it. The paper held a layout of Azkaban from an aerial view. When the Dark-Lord had asked for a Port-key to the island, the last thing Lucius had expected would be that they were actually going to break into the strong hold.

"Read the information sheets, and don't forget it. We will strike at midnight on the thirty-first of August." The boy, Ignotus, got to his feet and gave a slow nod in the Dark Lord's direction before leaving the table.

Lord Voldemort watched him go with an almost proud glint into his eyes before he turned back to his followers stunned faces.

"This is to be both Ignotus' and Tom's test, and they shall be leading the attack. If any of you attempt to interferer with it... Well, I shall be very displeased."

And with that, the Dark Lord swept from the room.

Only Bellatrix in her insanity seemed to process what had happened, for she cackled after the figure of the Dark Lord, exclaiming, "like father like son," as she too fled the room.

And Lucius could only nod ever so lightly, for she was very much right.

* * *

Sitting with his feet up, stretched across the couch, Tom Marvolo Riddle swirled the glass of wine around in an uncommonly absent-minded manner.

Usually, he was very much focused, a side effect of being stuck within the diary for oh so very long. He'd had little contact with the outside world until the Weasley girl had come along. And oh, how he'd rejoiced, being able to open the chamber and release the basilisk upon the student body once again. And like a second retelling, Dumbledore had once again gotten suspicious.

Though this time, he'd been a step ahead.

He'd tore all the life-force from the girl, locking her away in the diary instead, and then fled Hogwarts. He'd found the other one, the main part, of himself not two days later. To say that'd been a surreal experience would be an understatement.

To find out his older self was raising the child prophesied to 'vanquish' him, and that said child not only knew, but was okay with that? For a moment, Tom had believed the diary had in fact, been destroyed and he was in some deep recess of his mind, a second or two right before death claimed him.

However, that'd turned out to be false, and it'd also turned out that he wasn't the only Horcrux present in the room. When he'd escaped the diary, the last thing he thought he'd meet was a living Horcrux. It was so incredibly interesting, and since the boy was, in essence, a part of him, Tom had seen no fault in teaching the boy.

If Voldemort was busy, then that meant Tom was in charge of getting Ignotus up to scrap. And now, the boy was without a doubt ready.

Hell, Voldemort had been unusually cruel with the requirements he placed upon young Ignotus. He wasn't allowed anywhere without Tom or Voldemort, not until he got the Weasley girl from the diary. For the first three years, Tom had accepted the fact the little dark haired boy wouldn't see the light of day unless one of the two versions of himself were beside him.

It wasn't until last year that thought had shattered, when he'd actually seen the research the boy had put into his impossible task. And now, the proof was before him, laid out on the opposing couch.

Young -or maybe, not so young anymore- Ginevra Weasley, unlike himself, was not a Horcrux. As such, she had continued to age as she had laid within the, now completely normal, diary's pages. She looked as if nothing bad had happened to her.

And it still made Tom smirk, the fact that the body holding one of the other Horcruxes was smart enough, imaginative enough, to pull something like this off. The only thing he wasn't impressed with was the boy's plans for the girl.

He couldn't understand it himself, but Ignotus had managed the task of freeing the girl, so Voldemort, in a good mood as rare as a dodo, had allowed the boy to do as he wished.

Speaking of the devils; the door popped open and Voldemort swung through, making a bee-line to their shared study and disappearing behind the doors, no doubt to check over Tom's flawless work. And then a second later, Ignotus appeared, a grin smeared across his features.

"So, I am to assume it went well?" He questioned, raising a brow and watching as Ignotus smiled back.

"Bloody excellent. I'm so looking forwards to this. And they only know about the part you're leading," Ignotus trailed off, a grin on his face as he thought about their future plans.

Tom would be leading the attack on Azkaban to reclaim their fallen, and then, the next day whilst the wizarding world was focused upon the island prison, it would be Ignotus' turn to strike.

**Part 1-2**

Albus Dumbledore stared down at the paper within his hands, show-casing the mass destruction that'd been wrought upon Azkaban. There was one large picture upon the page that showed the island prison in crumbles, little chunks of what had once been the mighty stone walls falling into the sea as the dark mark hung lazily above it in the air.

It would seem that the Death-Eaters had returned from their vacation.

Sad blue eyes looked up at Severus Snape, who looked furious with the conditions he'd previously been placed in, and had only just been able to explain. He'd known of the past attack for months, but had been unable to share his warning. He'd only turned up to an Order meeting, obviously desperate to tell them something.

Now, the man had been able to explain his theory as to why; the paper information that he'd been given must have reacted to whomever held it, sealing their knowledge of the event till it had already past. It was sad, but Dumbledore could do nothing for it now.

The only plus side was that there were no wizard guards on the island, and that nobody had been killed. Even if the dementors were free now. Free and allied with the Dark-Lord. What had perhaps disturbed Dumbledore the most, however, was the news Severus had finally been able to speak.

That Voldemort had a new Inner Circle member, the newest since Tom.

The latter being something Dumbledore was still trying to wrap his head around. Tom and Voldemort should not be able to exist at the same time. It was distressing. Almost as distressing about the news of a boy that called Voldemort 'father'.

Sighing and running a hand through his beard, the Head-master of Hogwarts frowned.

"I shall make sure there are Order members present on the train; it appears we are once again at war."

* * *

From where she was sat upon the Hogwarts Express, tucked away in a compartment, Hermione Granger grimaced at the news before her. She knew the war she'd never seen had been cold for years, and suddenly now as she was entering her last year...

She handed the paper over to Henry, watching as the Potter boy began to scan through the news, absent-mindedly rubbing at the discoloured patch of skin upon his forehead.

A token from the dark-lord, back from when the man had killed Henry's five year old twin brother. There had been so much blood, so much dark magic in the blood, that the selection that'd scattered across Henry's forehead had left the skin dyed in such a way it looked like a horrific burn. It was a small patch, no bigger than Hermione's pinky finger. But it was the mark of the Boy-Who-Lived.

It also, apparently, made him Lord Voldemort's target.

Beside the boy, his god-father, Remus Lupin, was sat, running a calming hand through the teen's hair. As a good friend to Henry, Hermione knew all about the Order.

She knew about how Voldemort had come to the Potter's home, stunning both Mr and Mrs Potter because he wanted them to know they couldn't protect their sons.

She knew how Harry's god-father, Sirius Black, had become a broken man the night he'd heard of Harry's death.

She knew he only carried on for the sake of his own two young kids. For the Potters.

She knew that the small family unit had steadily built themselves up again.

She knew how Henry's little sister, now a first year named Poppy, didn't know anything about a second older brother outside of the stories.

She knew how Voldemort had destroyed their life.

And now, he was back.

There should have been two others in that cabin, there should have been Harry Potter sat beside his twin, there should have been Ginny Weasley introducing Poppy to the wonders of hair charms. But they weren't there.

And that gave Hermione a reason to fight.

.

It was about three hours into the journey when the lot of them heard a 'thump' come from the roof. Remus looked up with narrowed amber eyes, pulling out his wand as the black dog upon the floor sat up, fully alert, it's gaze shifting to little Rasalas Black, who just stared back at his father in confusion.

"Stay here," Remus ordered, opening the door so that the two of them could slip out, werewolf and Animagus ready to fight. Poppy turned her huge hazel eyes upon Hermione, shuffling close and hugging the older girl's arm.

"Nothings going to happen, right?" Henry murmured, looking to his two best friends for support as Rasalas shuffled a little closer to his god-brother. Ron offered a grim frown, looking up at there was set of startled thumps from the roof.

One distinctive 'step', 'clump' grouping they recognised as Moody's walk.

"What the bloody hell are they doing on the roof?" Ron whispered, just as the train turned. And in the shadows of the train cast by the sun, resting upon the ground, Hermione took notice of what was happening. She recognised the distinctive shadows of Remus and Padfoot, side by side, along with Moody and Kingsley.

All surround the tall, slim figure in the center. A calm looking figure.

Good god, she wished she knew what was happening up there, the only thing she knew for certain was that a duel had broken out, because there were burst of colour dancing off the side of the train. Poppy whimpered, hiding her face in Hermione's arm and the girl absent-mindedly stroked her hair, all the while praying everything would turn out okay.

.

About thirty seconds after the first spell was fired, there was a knock at the compartment door, a dark head of hair peeking through the frosted glass window. Hesitant only for a second, Hermione pulled open the door, gaping in surprise at what she saw. A boy, either sixth or seventh year stood before her, hands full of what looked to be an unconscious girl.

Hermione would be the first to admit the boy was exceptionally attractive, with thick wavy hair and the most intense, green/grey eyes she'd ever witnessed within her life. His face was beautiful, and looked at her in a half sheepish, almost amused expression. He took a quick look around the room and his face twitched lightly as it settled upon Ron. The boy stepped forwards -and why had Hermione never seen him before, surely she'd have recognised a face like that if it belonged at her school- before dropping the girl into Ron's surprised lap.

"I believe she's yours. Sorry it took so long to get her out."

At that, the boy twisted on his heels, disappearing out the door and closing it as he went.

Hermione was about to give chase, until Ron let out a startled, strangled sound and the bushy haired girl turned back to look at him. And then froze.

For sprawled upon the flame haired boy's lap was a familiar looking flame haired girl, who's hat had just fallen off and who's brown eyes were just beginning to open. It couldn't be, but she looked exactly like Hermione would picture her growing up. Was it possible-

"Ginny?" Ron whimpered, watching as the teenaged girl, Ginevra Molly Weasley, opened her eyes and saw her brother for the first time in four years.

"Ron!"

* * *

Dropping onto the top of the train roof next to Tom, Ignotus smirked at the flabbergasted looks from the four Order members present.

He supposed the two of them did look quite similar, there was no doubt they could be brothers. They were pretty much.

Well, as brotherly as Tom Marvolo Riddle could get anyway.

"Are you finally done?" Tom hissed, his back pressed up against Ignotus' own and the younger boy laughed, staring down both Mad-eye Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt. He knew Tom was facing down Remus Lupin and the one man Ignotus would never raise a wand to. The one man that'd paid him more attention, had actually cared for him, then anyone else in his long since dead life.

If there was one thing certain about Tom, he knew Ignotus' weakness. And he was going to cover for it.

Together they moved, a pair of striking vipers, swift and efficient, successfully using the older men's underestimations of them to their full advantage. They may not look old enough, being seventeen and twenty respectfully, but they duelled with skills well beyond their age.

Shacklebolt was the first to go down, thrown from the train, Lupin following when he attempted to help the taller man. Ignotus allowed a wild laugh to escape his lips as he fought Moody, and was positively delighted when Tom echoed the sound.

The two of them had duelled against Voldemort together before, and in a duel, they were not two combatants upon the same side. No, they were one, moved as one and struck as one. So intimate they were with one another's moves, one another's magic, they didn't need to look or even speak as they fought, sliding effortlessly around one another like they'd been born for it.

All the training -and the dubious 'blood brother' ritual- had paid off, for they finally managed to send Moody flying with a duo curse that swung around into the man's blind spot too fast for even his magical eye to track.

Straightening up, Ignotus turned on heel to look into the wide eyes of his godfather, a frown settling upon his face, so disappointed it boarded on become a pout.

Tom gave him a low nod, stepping backwards and allowing him a chance to straighten out the one thing in his life that'd always bugged him, had always sat nestled in the back of his brain and refused to leave.

Turning to Sirius Black, Ignotus offered up a small, sheepish smile, feeling Tom apperate behind him.

"Just wanted to let you know that this pup's all grown up now. Thanks for everything Paddy." And then with a crack, he too was gone.

But not before he saw the sheer disbelief, the horror and longing that entered his god-father's gaze.

* * *

**Because everyone needs their own Voldy raises Harry fic.**

**Tsume  
xxx**


	8. Midnight Grace

**Midnight Grace**

Harry's getting pretty bored of having to live different lives over and over again, with his only goal being to defeat Voldemort. It's even more annoying that he can't seem to keep his memories every time he's reborn. Harry born a Black

**0-1**

Stood over the crib, Regulus Arcturus Black stared down at his baby boy, who looked back up at his with big, silver eyes. The dark haired baby showed no signs of discomfort over the fact their had been an intruder within the nursery not five minutes ago. The only sign that someone had been there are all was the black cloak rested upon the ground, alongside the oh too familiar yew wand. Regulus knew that wand, had looked down it as it 'gifted' him with the torture curse. There was no doubt about it, Voldemort had paid his young son a visit, not long as Regulus himself had only just escaped with his life and a Horcrux to his name.

And yet, the only sign of this visit aside from the Dark-Lord's cloak and wand, was the lightning bolt scar upon the baby's forehead.

He'd heard of the prophecy, the first part that was, he'd still been with the Death Eaters up until then. But there was no way his baby boy- '_Born as the seventh month dies'- _

He knew all to well that little Orion had been born just three minutes before midnight on July the 31st. Three minutes till August. He knew that Dumbledore and the rest of the Order believed that it was the surviving Potter twin that was the destined vanquisher of the Dark Lord.

But Regulus knew better.

His son had been marked. And he would be doing everything in his power to make sure the boy was ready.

Family came first.

And if that meant offering up the Dark Lord's Horcrux to Dumbledore for protection from Azkaban, then so be it.

**1-1**

Tuesday, September 1st

_The face on the back of his head stared back at him, haunted red eyes glowing with an eerie light as they focused upon him. _

_"Ah yes, Henry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived. But you're not, are you? Oh, you don't know? They haven't told you? Oh no, you're not that vanquished me. No, the only reason you lived were your twin died is because I found out about the other boy. One of my very own servants. He lied and betrayed me, and I planned to make his spawn pay, because it most certainly may have been his brat. And it was, because he threw me out of my body, tore me away. You, Henry Potter, are nothing."_

* * *

"Who's that?"

It was the first day of schooling, and the golden trio were back for their second year at Hogwarts. The three of them, Henry, Hermione and Ron, were all sat up to the Gryffindor table for breakfast. Their conversation had been pleasant, other than Hermione telling them off for the incident with the flying car the previous day. Henry let it all pass him by, doing his best to ignore the first-year's that were openly gaping at him.

He didn't want the stares.

Sure it was nice to be the Boy-Who-Lived, before Hogwarts he'd even acted up on it. It was his title, his fame.

And then, last year, he'd faced Voldemort.

He'd not told anyone, not even his parents, about what the man had said to him. It was a constant reoccurring nightmare, coming back again and again. He'd suffered through it again last night, and he determined to ignore it. Because if he listened, then that meant his entire life had been a lie, that he had been built up to be something he wasn't.

"Again, who is that?"

Slowly, Henry let his green eyes follow after Hermione's own gaze, resting upon the form of a Slytherin boy who'd certainly not been there last year. He didn't look much older than them, and certainly wasn't a first year. So why had they not seen him before? It took Henry a second before it clicked in his head, mouth dropping open slightly as he looked at the boy.

The boy who looked exactly like his godfather Sirius!

Okay, maybe that was a bit of an over exaggeration. Sure the new Slytherin had the same elegant, merry-wild curls of black hair as Sirius, and the same pale grey eyes, but his skin was darker, coming off more tan then what his god-father could manage. What was perhaps the boy's most interesting feature though, was the lightning bolt scar upon his forehead, peeking out ever so slightly from behind a thick bang of hair.

"He's very good-looking, isn't he?" Lavender Brown whispered to Hermione, and to Henry's surprise, his bushy haired friend actually blushed. Henry followed Hermione's gaze back to the boy, just in time to catch the Slytherin actually wink at her, a smug -because it surely wasn't flirtatious, was it?- smile upon his face before his pale grey eyes turned back to the Head-master. Dumbledore was stood now, the first years having been sorted and he gathered everyone's attention.

"Now, before I start our feast, I have the pleasure of welcoming another student, whom will be joining the second year classes; Orion Regulus Black has joined Slytherin House, so please give him a warm welcome."

The boy, now identified as Orion, offered a dip of his head to the Head-master, giving a vague gesture of thanks towards the man. Henry caught the flash of gold upon the boy's hand and instantly recognised it as an heir ring, just like the one he currently wore upon his finger. But the only way that their could be an heir to Black was-

"Sirius' brother must be alive after all," Henry whispered to himself, looking at the living proof of his assumption as the grey eyed pre-teen began to cut into a pork chop. As if sensing the eyes upon him, Black looked up, raising a questioning brow in Henry's direction before a smile crossed his lips, a dip of the head once again following. From one heir to another.

Pulling out the shrunken mirror that'd been resting in his pocket, Henry flicked the compact open and hissed Sirius' name. Instantly, the face of his god-father appeared before, smiling but clearly rather weary about being called so early in the night.

"Sirius, there's a new kid in Slytherin my year, take a look." And before his god-father could ask, Henry spun the mirror around, angling it at the boy sat across the room from him.

"Holy shit!" Sirius snapped from down the other end of the mirror, Henry flicking him around to get a look at his now pale as paper god-father.

"His name's Orion Regulus Black, so he's got to be-"

"My nephew," Sirius finished, face looking exceedingly stricken.

As far as the older Black brother knew, Regulus had dropped off the face of the earth a year before Henry had been born, and he'd not been heard from him since. It wasn't until last year when the Head of the Black family died, and Sirius was denied Lordship due to the official heir having already claimed it, that the man had had any proof his brother was quite possibly still around.  
It was only within the past two years Sirius himself had settled down with a woman, ironically enough, a pure-blood witch four years younger than the Animagus. Henry often visited the newest baby Black, Rasalas adored him. He'd long since thought that he'd be the one showing Rasalas the ways of the world, but if the boy actually had a cousin his age-

"Henry, tell Professor Dumbledore I'm coming up to see him; I'm sending your father to check if Grimmauld place has re-surfaced."

That was another thing, the Black ancestral home had completely dropped of the map, as if it had never existed. Sirius had found out when he'd gone to try and retrieve one of his rare chocolate frog cards that he'd left behind, only to find the house gone, with presumably, every ward known to wizarding kind up.

"Sirius, wait-"

But his god-father had already cut off contact with the mirror and Henry groaned. He looked back over at the start of this mess, but Orion was now busy offering an exceedingly cold glare to Malfoy. The blond didn't seem to know what to do in the presence of the Black boy.  
Henry knew enough about politics to know in the pure-blood eyes, Blacks came above all else.  
End of story.

If there was one good thing to come out of Orion's arrival, it was that Malfoy would without a doubt be booted out of his Slytherin Princely-hood to make way for Black.

* * *

Only offering the Malfoy boy a cool glance, Orion Regulus Black finished off the last of his pork, effortlessly ignoring the whining girls opposite him. They wanted to know everything about him; when was his birthday, who were his parents -one made obvious by the heir ring-, hell, even where he'd been the past year. It'd be a cold day in hell before he willing told them anything.  
What amused him most was the obvious interest the so called 'Boy-Who-Lived' was showing him. Orion knew for a fact that the boy was not what the world claimed him to be. How could he, when Orion's own father had seen the Dark Lord crumble before him as the killing curse back-fired, even holding the wand to prove it, now nestled in the Black family library.

Slowly twisting the holly stick in his hand, Orion comparing the brother wand to his own. He'd had it since he was seven, having had to poly-juice into another boy so that he could get it early from Olivanders. One of his father's rather brilliant ideas.  
And hidden far behind the wards of the Black ancestral home, his father had taught him magic.

Orion had spent several hours a day, almost every day, going over everything. And how could he not? Magic was incredible, and he'd have learnt as much as possible regardless of the circumstances. However, since both he and his father knew a Dark-Lord was after his head, they'd been training together for years. Orion was not going to be caught unaware. He was going to protect himself, and his family. His father, his mother, little Alphard, Aquila and Leonis. He would do anything to make sure his younger siblings never got caught up in this.

.

Feeling the presence of Dumbledore's sweeping magic settle behind him, Orion carefully placed his knife and fork upon the edge of his plate, twisting to look at the elderly wizard.

"Sir?"

"Mr Black, I believe I have a visitor for you in my office."

Curious but deciding it was probably safe, Orion got to his feet; there was no way this visitor was his sworn enemy, otherwise he doubted Dumbledore would be calling for him.

Following the Head-master out of the hall, Orion stuck his hands into his pants pockets, looking around the halls with a small smile upon his face. All the portraits were a hell of a lot nicer than what grand-mother Black's was. Orion shuddered at the thought of her painted face, and thanked Merlin that father had seen fit to stick her in with all the other portraits, instead of in the hallway, where she'd wanted to go. Thank Circe for small favours.

He followed after Dumbledore, one hand nestled deep in his pocket as the other tousled his hair, ignoring the whispers that quickly began to fly amongst the student population. He didn't care about them, nor did he care for making friends.  
In all honesty, he had bigger fish to fry than making happy with school children. He wasn't one of them, not really. He'd never get the chance to be one of them, and if it kept his family safe, he wasn't going to complain about it. His father was smart enough to look after both himself and his mother to the best of his abilities, and Orion knew his little brothers and sister were safe behind the wards of the Grimmauld Place.  
As long as he was out in the open, he'd draw Voldemort's attention first, and that was what he was aiming for.

"I hope you don't mind me prying my boy, but that is a very strange scar upon your forehead."

Orion frowned, subconsciously pulling at a bang to cover the lightning bolt marking.

"I've had it since I was a child, father says I attract trouble." He did really, only that trouble came in the form of the big, bad Dark Lord. It was hardly his fault, all he'd done was be born.

"Scars can be very useful things, I myself have one upon my knee that maps out all of the London Underground."  
What?

Orion stared after Dumbledore before hurriedly making his way up the stairs to the man's office, following after his apparently very eccentric head-master. And he arrived just in time to witness his father getting punched in the nose.

Instincts kicking in, Orion leapt forwards, wand out and three spells having already left the holly wood, confounding, restraining and blasting back the assailant. His father, still stood tall and only pressing a handkerchief to his bleeding nose, watching him with approving steel grey eyes that matched his own.

Dumbledore coughed slightly and Orion stood up from his battle-stance, feeling slightly sheepish as he took in the appearance of the man he'd restrained. Maybe he did have a bit of a right attacking his father, considering this had to be his Uncle Sirius. He was the only other male Black alive over the age of seventeen, so there was no one else who could be currently sporting the features in front of him.  
Father had already said he'd probably get punched in the face by his older brother, considering he'd not just kept to himself all these years, but had pretty much dropped off the face of the earth, taking the Black family house with him.  
Still though, it was shocking to see it happen in front of him.

"Sirius my boy, I do believe that is quite enough." Even though it wasn't suppose to be an order, by hell did it sound like one.

Cancelling the spells upon his Uncle, Orion pocketed his wand, turning to get a better look at this relative he'd never met. He looked startlingly like his father, but with laugh lines that were otherwise absent from Regulus' face. Sirius, even though he was currently looking at Orion like he was the most confusing puzzle he'd ever met, seemed like a wilder, slightly older version of his father who wasn't afraid to laugh long and loud.

"I am sorry Sirius," his father muttered around the handkerchief almost covering the lower half of his face, "I did say I'd explain it all, but long story short, I defected and stole something exceedingly important, which is now currently within the Head-master's possession. He knows for certain that I am no longer a Death Eater. Allow him to sooth your worries."

Uncle Sirius seemed like he wanted to say something more, or rather, shout a whole lot at his father, but was forcefully holding himself back. Quite a feat, if his father's stories about the man were true.  
So instead the older Black turned to look at his nephew, scrutinizing him as Orion raised an amused eyebrow.

Of course, the first words from his mouth were, "you look a lot like your dad brat."

"As do you."

And Sirius laughed.

.

Orion had sat quietly for the next ten minutes as his older relations ironed out a day to meet up and discuss family matters, not that it was much of a concern for him. After all, Orion was now at school, and wouldn't be taking part in this family meeting, or any others until Christmas break. It was only as Professor Dumbledore interrupted that his uncle and father seemed to remember he was even there, so busy they were with their tentative catchup. They both stood, clearly looking to use the fire-place to get to their respective homes. But not before his father knelt to his level, pulling him into a tight hug that Orion happily returned.

"Remember, be careful and owl me whenever you can okay. Your brothers and sister miss you, and I won't even get started on your mother."  
Orion chuckled slightly, making his father promise to stay safe too before they broke apart. And surprisingly enough, he was quickly swept up into a bear hug with his uncle, who seemed pretty insistent on squeezing the life from him.

"Okay little nephew, you have to go knock those slimy snakes down a peg or two, even if you're one yourself. If you ever need help, just call your uncle." It was pleasant to know that Sirius so readily accepted him. Even father had been weary of the man's reaction to Orion, but it seemed it was all for nothing.

"Of course uncle, I look forwards to seeing you at Yule."

And with that, the two swept from the room in a flare of green flames, but not before his father was once more threatened with bodily harm if he didn't give up answers soon.

Exchanging a look with Dumbledore, Orion offered a small bow before he escaped the room, determined to get a nights rest before the first day of class tomorrow. Now all he had to do was actually get to the Slytherin dungeons. Thank goodness that father had told him where they were.

The only problem was the password.

**1-2**

Wednesday, September 2nd

"He's sat on his own again."

Henry looked up, following Hermione's eye to land on the Black boy that'd been introduced the previous day. He was indeed sat on his own, indicated so by the person sized spaces between him and those sat somewhat close to him. And the boy didn't even seem to mind, instead inattentively flicking through a book whilst eating breakfast.

Ron had yet to join them at the table, instead sleeping away the morning, probably recovering from the scare they'd had the previous day. After that blasted house-elf had closed off the entrance to the station- well, if it weren't for Henry's parent's they probably wouldn't have made it to Hogwarts for the start of term feast.

Owls were sweeping in from the roof, and Hedwig dived down, depositing the usual package of sweets his mother sent him every week. It'd probably be worse next year when his little brother Charles came to school too.

He was somewhat surprised though when a screech owl entered the great hall, carrying a smoking red letter. He'd recognise that form of letter anywhere after what'd happened last year, back when his mother found out he'd snuck a dragon out of school. The Howler had blown his -and ever other Gryffindors'- eardrums, and he still had the occasional nightmare where his mother's voice echoed through the great hall. It'd been mortifying to know everyone had heard it; what the hell could someone have done to earn a Howler on their first day?

All the Slytherins tensed when the owl flew towards their table, and the Weasley twins stood up to actually get a better view of what was sure to be a sight.

To Henry's surprise though, it landed right in front of Black, who regarded the letter with the cool curiosity of someone experimenting with a potion and waiting for the chemical explosion to follow.

And what an explosion it was.

"ORION REGULUS BLACK! How dare you attack your uncle," Henry chocked slightly because as far as he knew, Black could only have one uncle that he met the previous day, "I specifically told you to introduce yourself before attempting to defend your father! Regardless, both I and your father are exceedingly proud of you for not only getting into Slytherin, but for besting your uncle too. HI ORI!" The tone of the unusual Howler had now changed, sounding suspiciously like the voice of a child, at least two, if not three of them. "WE MISS YOU LOTS AND LOTS AND LOVE YOU!"

Then the Howler began ripping itself up as it burned, turning to ashes within seconds, even though everyone's eyes remained on Black to watch his reaction. Even though Henry's cheeks would have been burning with embarrassment should his siblings have ever sent him a letter like that, Black wasn't red in the face.

Instead, he was looking at the little pile of ash with a fond smile on his face, which Henry found very odd indeed. His father, James Potter, was sat up to the teachers table with an unreadable expression on his face as he looked at Black, not that Henry was shocked to see him there. His dad had all but demanded the post after what had happened last year, so Henry wasn't going to complain.

Even if he apparently wasn't the main target anymore.

"He must really love his siblings if he's not embarrassed by them," Hermione mused, staring at the boy who was now untying the package also attached to the owl, shrinking it to stuff in his pocket.

"Yeah, I guess so."

.

The two of them got up to leave for Herbology a little later once Ron had surfaced and swallowed enough food to sink himself should he decided to suddenly go for a swim. The twins had happily repeated the Howler experience, and Ron was horrified over the fact he'd missed a Slytherin getting put in his place, even if Black hadn't seemed affected -if not somewhat touched- by his siblings message.

And funnily enough, who should be walking in front of them but the boy in question himself, who had apparently attracted a wild Malfoy to his side. He looked at Ron and Hermione before they silently agreed to speed up a bit, hoping to hear a quick snippet of their conversation.

"-have you even been? What could have been so important to miss out your first year at Hogwarts Black?"

"Father took us along on a trip around the world and we spent a good deal of that time studying rare and dying forms of magic," Black returned, and Henry could tell from the tone of his voice he wasn't exceedingly happy about having to answer Malfoy's questions.

The blond scoffed, rolling his eyes but he seemed interested in the idea of travelling the world to study obscure branches of magic; Hermione too looked enthralled by the idea, and even Henry who wasn't as in to studying as the girl agreed that it did indeed sound very interesting.

"I suppose you're rather thankful to be away from your family now then? If I had been sent a Howler like that, I wouldn't speak to my family for weeks, especially if they were prone to shouting like that." Malfoy and Black turned a corner as the former finished his sentence, and when the Golden Trio followed after them, they almost knocked into Black. Black whom currently had Malfoy pinned to a wall, all but lifting the shorter boy off the ground with their faces inches apart.

"I don't care what you say about anything else Malfoy, but I'd die before I let any harm come to my family. You won't ever insult them again if you know what's good for you."

And then Black dropped him, ignoring the boy's crumpled form, and ignoring the three of them too as he made his way down the corridor, no doubt off to look for his first lesson. The three stared after him, paying no attention to the snarling Malfoy who was trying to gather his shattered pride by spewing insults at the three of them.

Instead, they turned and set off to Herbology without speaking.

.

It wasn't until Henry sat down that he began to go through what had just happened. Black was clearly exceedingly protective of his family. He'd seen Sirius act like it whenever some unsavoury person -or anyone he didn't actually get along with- tried to approach his baby boy Rasalas, and his mum was quite the same when she found out the next door neighbour's boy had been picking on Ivy, his litter sister and youngest sibling. But he'd never seen that behaviour outside of adults, at least, not until now. He'd never even considered being that protective over Ivy and Charles up until that very hour when he'd witnessed the oldest Black threatening the 'Perfect Prince of Slytherin'. Much to Henry's surprise, Black didn't seem too bothered about ruling his house like he'd expected the boy to, he seemed happy enough to be left alone actually, which was unusual.

Because really, who didn't want friends, or allies, whatever Slytherins called their preferred associates.

"He's kinda sweet, isn't he?" Hermione murmured as she pulled out her textbook, looking between Henry and Ron, the latter of whom was gagging at her words.

"Are you made Hermione? He's a bloody Slytherin, he can't be sweet!"

"But he was so protective of his siblings! They're so lucky to have an older brother that'll look out for them when they come to Hogwarts. You should follow his example Henry."

Henry cringed at the words. In all honesty, he'd planned to leave his siblings alone to get their own friends and find their own way around, like he'd had to. But after watching Black all morning, it made him feel almost, inadequate as an older brother.

Ron sat back, grumbling about how he didn't need to show Ginny around and scowling when he heard the other Gryffindor girl's discussing the new Slytherin boy and his 'charming' looks. Henry frowned, resolving to forget about him for a while so he could focus on his lesson.

After all, he shouldn't have a Dark Lord this year to pin his grades on should they not hold up to his mother's standards again.

* * *

Thursday, September 3rd

It wasn't until the last lesson on Thursday that the Gryffindor's had their first lesson with the Slytherins, and funnily enough, it was in Defence. He honestly couldn't understand it, all the teachers -especially his father- knew the Gryffindor and Slytherin rivalry, and yet they continued to stick them together for even the most violent of lessons, Potions, Flying and of course, Defence.

The only good thing was that is dad was teaching them, so Henry couldn't see any points being ripped from Gryffindor in the same way that happened during Potions. If anything, it'd be the other way around; the Slytherins seemed to realize this too, if their less than amused faces were anything to go by. Henry really couldn't blame them, if it was anything like being a Gryffindor in Snape's class-

He scowled, dropping into a seat as he waited for his two friends. Ron was without a doubt running late from whomever he'd been versing in chess during their free-period, and Hermione would be on her way from the library, probably with a book or two under her arm. He smiled at the thought of them, dropping his text-book onto the desk with a bang after retrieving it from his bag.

"I assume this seat is taken?"

Looking up, Henry paused at the sight of Black, who had one arm tucked around his own textbook at his side, bag thrown over the adjacent shoulder. Well, Hermione and Ron were late, and whoever arrived last would be on a table on their own, so did it really matter? True Black was a Slytherin, but he was also related to his god-father, so he couldn't be all bad.

"No, feel free."

Black offered him a polite smile before calmly sliding into the seat, either ignorant or paying no attention to the shocked and betrayed looks -Gryffindor and Slytherin respectively- that were sent his way. Next thing Henry knew, a hand was being held out before him.

"Orion Regulus Black."

"Henry Charlus Potter." They shook hands before Black retrieved his ink well and quill, setting out a piece of parchment before looking back to the curious Potter.

"I must apologise Potter, I was expecting you to be a bit more spoilt and big headed than what you appear to be," Black mused, casually writing the date across the parchment without really paying attention to the action. Henry, though feeling nervous in the presence of a Slytherin, even if it were Black, offered a small smile up as he shrugged.

"Well, I could say the same thing really."

Now Black did smile back at him, clearly amused.

"And please don't call me Potter, you sound too much like Malfoy when you do."

The slightest bit of disgust showed on Black's face for a moment before it was wiped clean, returning to the easy smile that'd been present so far.

"We can't have that, in which case, do call me Orion then." Orion turned his attention to the front at that point and when Henry did so, he was surprised to see his dad was already in the classroom, looking exceedingly miffed as to why his son was sat with a Slytherin.

Ron and Hermione appeared to have both turned up too, because the former was looking at him as if Henry had committed the ultimate betrayal. He tried to push it out of his mind -there wasn't a problem being on good terms with one Slytherin, surely?- and focus on his dad's lesson.

Thankfully, Orion seemed to be in the same mind, and the lecture went by quickly.

* * *

**I think this'll be the last update for a while, I'm gonna stock up every three months and just drop them all on here at once. So, erm, July?  
****And this is a, Harry's spirit constantly reborn without memories but in a different body, story. **

**Tsume  
xxx**


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